The Cat O'Nine Tails
by ariolfo101
Summary: Marinette has always assumed Chat Noir had his own home, his own family, and his own life. But after a chance encounter, Marinette sees Chat's miserable story written in the scars across his back. Despite fears about her own identity and the fierce disapproval of her kwami, Tikki, Marinette and the Dupain-Chengs try to keep Chat safe, help him heal, and find him a loving home.
1. Chapter 1

The Cat O'Nine Tails

Marinette gazed dreamily at the poster, her eyes getting lost in the sea of Adrien's smooth cheek. No scars marred it, no pimples dared blemish it. Adrien was just too _perfect_ for any of that to touch him.

"He's just a dream of a guy." She murmured, half to herself, half to the kwami that sat on her desk, placidly munching a cookie.

"May I remind you that you have patrol in three minutes." Said Tikki.

Marinette snapped out of her reverie and grimaced. "Can't it wait?"

"You've been mooning over that new poster of Adrien for at least two hours."

"Oh, all right, I suppose that tomcat just can't _wait_ to patrol."

Marinette enjoyed patrol, but she'd much rather stay in her room working on her designs or making collages of Adrien. Chat Noir however, seemed almost desperate to keep on running, inventing new excuses to keep on leaping across the roofs of Paris.

 _Probably just so he can toy with me._ Thought Marinette crankily.

 _There is no way Chat could ever compare to my Adrien. Adrien is just so perfect and Chat is well…_

She thought to the dorky puns, the clinginess, the constant trip ups and wipe outs. Chat was a mangy alley cat, incomparable to her Prince Charming.

Patrol ended, Marinette flopped down on her pink deck chair to gaze at the stars. The fairy lights illuminated the space fairly well, creating a lighthouse in the sea of Paris. She lay with eyes half closed, the plate of fresh pastries forgotten on the table beside her. She was just mentally talking to herself to figure out if going to bed was worth getting up for, when she heard a bang and a crash, and jolted straight up as a tray of pastries clanged to the floor, the black cat responsible caught red handed.

Start changing to anger, she turned to her uninvited guest. "Just what do you think you're doing?!"

"Well, I just wanted one and since…"

"So you decided just to take one? They were mine and now look what you've done!"

"I'm so sorry I…"

"Did you ever consider what you were doing? Stealing! You were stealing from me!"

"No, I didn't think…"

"Oh, sure you thought. With your stomach! As if you didn't have food at your own house!"

He fell dead silent at this, his face going rigid in the light. Illuminated, the face seemed to lose what was, in her eyes, it's constant cocky expression. The light played around the shaggy locks, the eyes like shattered emeralds, the black mask with little scars spilling out from underneath. Scars invisible in the Paris night, now thrust out for her blue eyes inspection.

"What is that?" She said poking at the ugly marks that laced his face.

She wanted to hear him pun, say something stupid and arrogant, so she could go back to scolding him, stop seeing him in this frightening new light.

He gulped, and pulled at his collar, trying to hide the scars she now saw tearing down his neck and down his suit.

"Oh, um, my Dad has this really nasty cat."

No mortal cat could make those cuts. Marinette knew that. But she found herself desperately playing along.

"Oh, what kind of cat?"

He mounted the railing and prepared to leap off.

"A cat with nine tails."

 _Thank you so much for the reviews! I've never really published anything before._

 _For those of you who are confused , Chat has not been attacked by a mutant cat. His answer is a pun explaining what really has been done to him. His silence about not having food is also relevant._

 _I originally intended this to be a one-shot, but if enough people have ideas for more, please share them._

 _And review like Chat's nine lives depend on it!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I am so sorry for posting a repeat of the first chapter! I thought I had correctly posted this one, and didn't bother to double check. A great big thank you to reviewers for alerting me to this! Please keep reviewing, you don't know how much it means to me!_

Adrien lay panting on the floor, his sides heaving as he gasped for air. A lesser man might have been affected by the sight, but Gabriel had seen too much, done too much, to let this affect him. The boy was not his son. He was nothing more than a traitorous, ungrateful alley cat who was getting in his way. And nothing, Gabriel had decided, would ever get in his way.

"Give me the ring."

Adrien's eyes darted to the kwami, sitting in his sock drawer, that had been torn open in his father's fit of rage. The little cat like creature was glaring at his father with absolute loathing, no doubt wanting to tear the man to bits. But Plagg would not move to bite him, for he feared that Gabriel would do worse if he intervened. He had seen a deadlier weapon in Gabriel's desk drawer, than the one the man was currently wielding. As long as Adrien lived, there was hope for a happy future, but that could be easily changed, if Gabriel was triggered.

Gabriel was also leaning toward that end, to get the power he so desperately craved that was stuck on his son's finger. But if the boy was dead, he reasoned, he could not give consent. The ring would stay stuck forever on the hero's finger, out of his reach. No, he needed the blasted cat to give IN!

"This can all end here if you give me the ring."

"No."

The answer was quiet, but firm. And it filled Hawkmoth with more rage than any defiant scream could. He longed to stamp out all nine lives that lay sprawled before him on the floor. But at the last moment he curbed himself. He turned and with astonishing coolness said, "I expect you'll be wanting to go to school tomorrow."

The half- skinned cat made no reply.

"I'll have Nathalie order extra concealer for you."

The boy began to slowly shift, groaning in pain.

"Four photoshoots. Don't be late because you were hopelessly flirting with _your lady._ "

No answer.

"You know what to say, if asked."

Chat Noir grimaced, half in pain, half in wry humor, punning to the last.

"Don't worry, I'll _make up_ some excuse."

The door slammed.

And with that final act of defiance, Chat Noir collapsed, and cried.


	3. Chapter 3

Cat O'Nine Tails

Marinette's heart thudded in her chest as she sank into bed, her thoughts reeling. Every moment of her short encounter with Chat Noir replayed in her memory on an endless loop. Tangling herself in her sheets as she tossed in her bed, her mind adrift in a savage sea of new realizations.

Marinette never had given Chat Noir much thought. He just wasn't a priority in her mind. Her thoughts of him were only present during akuma attacks and mostly consisted of how to keep them both in one piece, being annoyed at his untimely puns, and pushing off his lame flirting. Stray thoughts of the black cat were shoved into a box in the back of her brain to make room for more important things. Things like the akuma, her secret identity issues and ADRIEN.

Chat Noir was something she had all figured out, just an immature playboy, a cheesy jokester who sometimes couldn't be bothered to pay serious attention to the fight at hand. She had never given a second thought to what happened to him after they did their victory fist-bump. He went his way , she went hers. That was the way she wanted it.

But now she found herself desperately wanting to know more about him. What was HAPPENING to him?! If she had only taken the time, payed a bit more attention. Couldn't he have said something? Hinted he needed help? Her mind flashed back to all the times she had refused to let him reveal his identity, talk about his personal life, heck, even have a causal conversation unrelated to their heroic duties. Constantly cutting him off before he could get a message out. Agonized, Marinette flipped over and moaned into her pillow.

Suddenly, her mind lit up with a bright idea! Of course! She would talk to Chat as Ladybug their next patrol! She would find out what was going on and Ladybug would solve the problem! Satisfied with her plan of action, Marinette rolled over and went to sleep.

Clad in spots, Ladybug zipped across the streets of Paris , her yoyo pointed to the Eiffel Tower with purpose. Landing on one of the large crossbeams, she straitened to see Chat Noir already there, prepared to receive his orders as usual. The light was very poor, but Ladybug's keen eyes were on his face, watching the raw red lines that peeked from under his mask flex as he grinned.

"Hello Milady." He greeted, sweeping down in his usual bow. Because she didn't push him away and bark an order as she usually, she saw the muscles in his back twitch in protest as he went on one knee, felt his mouth twist in a wince as he kissed her hand. He straightened rather stiffly as asked, "Should I take the East side of the city since you had it last time?"

"Actually Chat." Said Ladybug, getting to the point. "I want to talk to you."

The spark of delight that flitted through his eyes could have lit up Paris.

"Really Milady, granting your knight such an honor makes me pawsitively thrilled? What does the fair Ladybug wish to talk about?"

"It's not like that Chat. I want to know about your life."

The cat froze, then grinned "Which one? I have nine."

Ladybug groaned, "I'm serious Chat. Tell me exactly what is going on in your life."

"Are we revealing our identities?" asked Chat excitedly.

"NO!"

"Then why…?"

"Just tell me about your life."

"I'm single if that is what you want to know."

"NOT NOW Chat."

"Are you?"

"My life is none of your business Cat! We are talking about you right now."

"They say that curiosity killed the cat, but my I ask why you are so curious about THIS cat all of a sudden?"

"Where did you get those marks?"

Paris seemed to freeze, frozen by a pair of haunted green eyes as the silence went on for what seemed like forever until Chat suddenly quipped, "Getting a bit PURRsonal , aren't we?"

"Chat, I'm your partner, I have a right to know…"

"Come on now Bugaboo, Paris won't patrol itself!"

And with that he leaped off into the night.

Ladybug was left with a strange sense of déjà vu. All night, the dynamic of the duo was reversed. Ladybug chasing Chat, trying to get any information about his life, Chat making dumb puns, and clique excuses about secret identities to elude her. And when Marinette fell into bed that night, frustrated and dismal about her lack of progress with Chat, some part of her realized something.

This is how Chat feels every day.


	4. Chapter 4

_SO sorry I took so long! Writer's block plus real life stuff. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!_

Plagg was determined he would end this now. He could feel the trembling, starving body of the boy he had grown to love breathing slowly, if raggedly, as he dozed transformed on a pink deck chair on Marinette's roof. Adrien needed safety, protection, and shelter, none of which he wanted to trust Ladybug to provide. The little kitten had a lion's pride when it came to his strength in the eyes of his lady. Plagg had little faith in in girl who resided in the pink room below. He'd never had good opinions of any human female. They were usually so stupid. But the clumsy girl seemed to have an inkling of good sense, so she would have to do. He had to do something! So, with great effort, Plagg began to peel the magical black leather off the back of Cat Noir.

It was agonizingly slow work, to slowly defuse his own dark matter from the back of his chosen, without completely de-tranforming them or ripping Adrien's skin off. _Not that there's much left to rip off._ Plagg thought bitterly as he exposed the raw wounds to the rainy sky. Twisting his sinew to the utmost, the kwami tailored the once concealing leather suit into a display case, showcasing the brutal marks on the skinny cat boy's back that photo shoot directors would try to hide. Plagg even went so far as to pull back half of the mask, like a mixed-up Phantom of the Opera who had put his mask on the wrong way, revealing, not concealing, the ruined half of his face. Tikki's clique warnings about identities and attachments faded to the back of his mind. As if anyone could connect the picture-perfect, polished, posh Adrien Agreste with the starving stray of a Cat Noir. Satisfied with his result, Plagg settled down to wait.

It was a strain to hold the suit in its stripped back state. The binding power of the ring was against him, trying to pull Plagg into the costume he and Tikki had agreed on. But the black cat kwami held firm, as his muscles ached and twitched, as his feeling numbed from holding the alien position. He cursed the bakery girl for her slowness, on this of all nights! He went from cursing to pleading _Please, my poor aching body! Please, come already, Adrien needs you to come onto the roof!_

He could faintly hear the bell on the door of the shop ringing, the thump of a bookbag on a desk, the footsteps coming up the steps to water her plants….

The shocked stillness as Marinette beheld the whipped and starving stray, her light illuminating the criss crossing wounds on his back like some sick photoshoot.

Silence, then retching, retching, wrenching wracking weeping as she lost her lunch over the balcony railing.

Plagg wasn't sorry a bit.

 _I am so sorry for making this so dark, but I felt it needed to be this way. There are horrible people out there who think it's okay to hurt innocent people for their own gratification. I will do my best to give this story the happy ending anyone who has ever been abused deserves._

 _-Ariolfo 101, the Author_


	5. Chapter 5

Marinette's mind had gone blank. There was nothing in the world, but the bloodied form of that boy, and the horrifying wounds on his back.

Her mind faintly registered other things, the acid taste of vomit in her mouth ,the splattering of her lunch on the pavement below, the little crimson spots dotting her pink deck chair cushions. She numbly wondered how the kwami was making the suit _do_ that, the open back and the half-mask. All this she pondered stupidly, before her brain came to terms with the situation in front of her and she reeled for a solution.

Marinette liked to think she was an expert with coming up with plans of action in the midst of danger. Akuma attacks were always vanquished and everything restored. But now she had no lucky charm, no cheer of "Miraculous Ladybug!" would put this to rights. She was just Marinette now. She practically _fell_ down the stairs in her haste to get the first aid kit.

Diving into the cabinet under her sink, she scrambled frantically for her first aid kit, one she commonly used in the event of a clumsy accident. But those marks were no accident. Marinette dug for something from health class that would help her. Were they punctures? Abrasions? Lacerations? Medical terms were flung through her thoughts. Finally locking her fingers onto the kit, she bolted straight up, banging her head on the sink but not caring.

They were cuts, deep, raw, bleeding cuts, crisscrossing across a skinny back. Infection had been evident, exhaustion and blood loss piled on top of that. Not to mention Chat Noir was almost painfully thin. Those signs could not be caused by a few days of abuse. This had to have been going on for _weeks_ if not _months._

 _If not years._

The realization pounded into her mind, cutting into her like a whiplash. She paused, grabbing at the banister to keep her balance as the implication hit her.

Years.

She turned her shell-shocked face to the trap door, reaching…

Before coming face to face with a ladybug kwami, contentedly crunching a cookie.

"What's going on Marinette?" the beady blue eyes gazed into her own.

Marinette gasped out " Chat, he's hurt, horribly hurt and I didn't know and I don't know how, and I've got to help him..!"

"Wait, wait, slow _down_ Marinette! Was there an akuma attack?"

Marinette shook her head furiously, spraying tears. "Under." She stuttered. "Under his suit. Must have happened as a civilian."

"How did you find out about wounds under his suit? It's _made_ to cover all of him!"

"It was pulled back, and I could see… His back, and all over his face!"

"Plagg pulled back the suit!" Tikki indignantly interrupted. "Pulled back the MASK?! He can't do that! It's so dangerous! You can't know each other's identities!"

"Please, Tikki, I have to get to the roof and help him! He's…"

"I'm going to see for myself!" and with that, Tikki phased through the trap door.

She returned burning with fury. "Of all the selfish, stupid, overdramatic things to do! People like him make me sick!"

"You see, Tikki, we've got to help him! I'm going…"

"There is no need for you to go anywhere."

Marinette stared.

"Those marks were made in his civilian life and you cannot get involved with that. It is not your concern."

"But…!"

"Eventually someone will report it to authorities and it will be dealt with. You are Ladybug , Marinette! Think of your duty! Your job is to protect Paris and defeat Hawkmoth. Nothing else is necessary. Interfering with Chat Noir's civilian life will no doubt lead to great danger for you both. The world can't lose Ladybug. Chat Noir is expendable."

"What?" Marinette said into the stillness, before exploding, "He's dying!"

"No, he's not. Stop being irrational Marinette! The wounds may be painful, but he's not going to die this instant. He can wait a few more years, until the officials get word of it, and it will be taken care of. Now, you should transform and drop him off at the Eiffel Tower. He can find his way home from there. You can leave the first aid kit if you like. Though, you better not, it might reveal a clue to your identity and…"

"I'm not leaving him out there! Not again! I turned my back and look what happened to him! His back! His face! His LIFE!" She covered her face. "I'm so ashamed. I could have HELPED."

"You did what was right and listened and followed the rules. You're a great Ladybug Marinette, the best yet! And I have faith someone will take care of Chat Noir. But that someone should not be Ladybug."

"I'm going up!"

"Come off of it Marinette and LISTEN to me! I am not letting you ruin the delicate balance of the miraculous. You cannot get involved! I know it may be hard for you to understand, but Chat Noir is not as important as defeating Hawkmoth and keeping the miraculous safe! Paris needs Ladybug!"

"And Chat Noir needs Marinette." Marinette's hands went to her ear and the little voice went silent. "I'm sorry, Tikki." she said to the stairwell. And rushed to Chat Noir's side.

 _I know Tikki seems pretty vicious here, but I have a lot of DARK theories about that sugar sweet little kwami._

 _Read_ The She-Cat's Crown _and_ The Queen Mother _for more dark Tikki!_

 _Part of the story is that when Chat Noir transforms, Plagg, besides absorbing his clothes, also absorbs any concealer or make up that hides the scars, making them come to light. No one notices the scars on Adrien because of make-up, photo shop, and bribery. People find it impossible to imagine Adrien's life being other than glamorous._

 _Tikki doesn't want Marinette getting involved with Chat Noir in any way, even if it means leaving him to suffer. She believes it's for the greater good. That it's not their responsibility to get involved._

Thank you for reading and PLEASE REVIEW WITH SUGGESTIONS!


	6. Chapter 6

Blinking his green cat-like eyes through a haze of pain, Chat Noir moaned and shifted away, hoping that he could at least sleep a bit longer. He squeezed his eyes back shut to block out the light, curling into a ball and bracing himself for what was surely to come. Dragging him out of his bed in the middle of the night and beating him within an inch of his nine lives seemed to be the usual routine.

 _Or do you have something MEW to try out tonight Father?_ He thought grimly. _Or should I call you Hawkmoth? Or how about Fathermoth? Hawkdaddy? Hawkdaddy has a nice ring to it, though I don't think I've called you Daddy for at least a decade._

"Stop squirming." Came the stern order, accompanied by a sharp tug on his suit. Chat cautiously opened eyes a sliver, wincing at the light and at the stinging pain on his back.

But now he saw that he wasn't in his room. This was way too soft and pink and warm to be his room. And the voice, though stern and strained, wasn't his Father's. There were firm hands holding him still, pulling back his suit, and running carefully across his back. But they weren't hurting him. There was a tightening around his chest, and he glanced down at himself, and ran his claws across the white gauze wrapped around his heart. The suit had been somehow unzipped and pulled down to his waist. His hand flew to his mask, to find the half that had covered a stray whiplash on his eye had been replaced with a bandage.

"Don't claw at it." came a voice from behind his back, as a hand reached around him and fumbled for one of the many bandages scattered on the pink couch, grabbed it and placed it on is back.

"It got so close, it even scratched your eyelid. You still have your eye, thank God. But," the bandage around his chest was tightened again, and the person came around to tie it in the front. "Your ear is badly torn. Your eyebrow is practically gone. And the scars will never go away."

Bowing her head to tie a firm bow over his heart, his angel glanced up into his one green eye with her two blue ones. Her eyes were red and watery and her freckles were flushed, as if she'd been crying, and there were bags under her eyes. Marinette ran her hand gently over the bandage. "Oh Chat."

She seemed unable to say anymore.

Chat forced himself to crack a grin, the effort pulling on the cuts painfully.

"Cat got your tongue, Princess?"

Her shoulders shook, and for a second he thought she was laughing, until she pulled him close into a hug and cried into his hair.

He hugged her back, heedless to the sharp agony in his shoulders as he wrapped her arms around her.

"Thank you, Marinette. You really patched me up good. I'm so sorry that I went to your balcony. I just wanted to say sorry for the other night. Then I must have fallen asleep and…"

"Don't you dare apologize! I should be the one who's sorry! You were hurting so bad you passed out on my balcony! And I was so stupid and distracted last time, thinking about my own life that I didn't even notice what was going on in yours! I am sorry, so sorry Chat. And I am going to make this right, I promise."

"Purrincess, you don't have to purr-omise me anything. What you've already done," he gestured to the bow over his chest, "is more than enough. Thanks for taking care on a mangy stray like me. You can't know what it mew-ans to me."

"You deserve it Chat."

Chat glanced out the window at the light in the east. "What time is it?"

Marinette wiped her eyes and glanced at the clock. "It's about five in the morning."

Chat's ears shot straight up. "I've got to go back!" He tried to stand up, but every movement ached. Straightening, his head went fuzzy, and he fell back on Marinette's shoulder, too weak to move.

"Oh no you don't!" Marinette restrained his next feeble attempt. "You can't get up! Where do you think you're going?"

"Back."

"You won't go back to the people who did this to you! I won't let you! You are staying here with me where it's safe. And I am never letting that monster near you again!"

"Marinette, I have to go back! If I don't show up, my father will tear the city apart looking for me. Keeping me here is too dangerous! It will bring bad luck on your whole family. My life isn't worth that."

Chat hunched his shoulders.

"Please Marinette," he begged. "I don't want your death on my head."

"I won't have your death on mine." Her face was full of stubborn determination.

"Marinette." He mewled, trying to get back up. But the seamstress simply went back to bandaging the wounds on his back.

"You're as weak as a newborn kitten, and I'm not done patching you up yet. You are staying here until you mend. That is an order."

Chat collapsed back on the couch, too exhausted to argue. He began to drift of as the sky lightened and the bakery below stirred.

"I've been late so often I can't miss a day of school. The doors will be locked, just stay quiet as a mouse, so my parents don't hear you. I'll be back as soon as I can…"

But Chat Noir had fallen into the first peaceful sleep he had had for the last year.

 _I am BACK! So glad to be back among the living. I'll be extra busy this week to make up for my two weeks off._

 _In case you were wondering, Marinette did not figure out Chat's identity. The part of his face that isn't masked is brutally scarred. (Think Prince Zuko or Phantom of the Opera) and she's only seen Adrien perfectly dressed and flawlessly made up. The next chapter will be Marinette's point of view._

 _Be back soon!_

 _-Ariolfo_


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm sorry this took so long! SEVERE WRITER'S BLOCK! Thanks for waiting!_

Marinette's hands trembled as they whipped down notes, her feet stumbled in her haste to get from class to class, as if that would make the school day go by faster. When she stuttered out three convoluted answers in a row, Alya firmly pulled Marinette's hand down and leaned in.

"Girl, what is up with you today?"

"Nothing." Marinette replied, shooting her hand into the air again when the question wasn't answered as fast as she wanted. Every word the teachers said buzzed right through her mind without registering.

"Don't tell me nothing. Something is making you anxious. I bet I know what."

"I'm not anxious."

Anxious didn't BEGIN to cover what she was feeling. Frantic, desperate, worried urgency pumped through her veins. What if he fell asleep and didn't wake up? What if the bandages weren't secure enough and he started bleeding out? What if her mom found him and dumped him out on the curb? What if an akuma attacked and he tried to fight in his condition? What if his father by some freak of luck found him and dragged him back, dragged him back to that awful place and she couldn't find him again? What if that monster and beat him and whipped him and starved him until he, until he…

"Oh, stop hyperventilating, Marinette. Adrien's just absent for the day. It's not like he's going to DIE!"

"Adrien?" Marinette blinked.

"Yah, ADRIEN. The guy you've been in love with for like, forever? Mister Prince Charming with the shining golden hair, gleaming green grass eyes, flawless skin, model body, etc. etc.? He didn't show up in homeroom today, if you didn't notice. Which you obviously did, if the way you've been freaking out is any sign."

"No," Marinette faintly registered the empty seat in front of her for the first time. "I didn't."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! You obsess over his every move! His not showing up has put you in this state. Don't worry, girl, your Adrien is probably at some super important last-minute photoshoot. I promise to grill Nino about it later."

The blogger's reassuring chatter chafed at Marinette's worries with all the soothing power of poison ivy. The naïve girl was gabbling on about the coolest akuma yet, and purchasing a new phone and the cute model who happened to go to the same school as them, while Chat Noir was hiding in her bedroom, nursing his festering wounds, and hiding a face that could never be fixed behind a peeling mask. How many days had she sat here, in this desk, chatting about how she loved Adrien, and what fashions she was trying out and how unlucky she was that she could never get her crush to notice her, while Chat had been living the hell he had been living, and she had never given a damn.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and without bothering to reply to her friend, Marinette snatched up her books and bolted out the door before anyone else even got out of their seats.

The walk between the house and the school had never been so long. Her feet pounded down the street with such fury that she could feel the jolting shock of each step up her leg and in her knees. Dashing across streets before the lights changed, weaving through the pedestrians in her way, she desperately wished she could transform and yoyo her way to Chat in a flash. But the red hot reminder of the earring in her pocket reminded her why that wasn't possible. Tikki had declared Ladybug wouldn't have anything to do with Chat. It was up to Marinette, and Marinette alone, to save him.

So Marinette ran.

Rounding the corner, she skidded, crashing into a building, knocking over a few flower pots. Swinging around a lamppost to make a sharper turn, she tripped over a dog's leash and tumbled head over heels. On her feet in an instant, she bolted though the door of her parent's bakery, alarms ringing in her head as the bell tinkled chillingly over her head. She whipped past the customers and pounded up the staircase, her fear rising with each step, her heart thumping in her chest. Bursting through the trap door prepared to fight her parents, Hawkmoth, Chat's father, or all three, her heart almost collapsed in relief when she found her room undisturbed and quiet, and Chat still curled up asleep on her couch.

Fears still fluttering through her mind, she bent over him, feeling his breath against her hand to ease her worry. The ring hadn't run out of power yet, and the cat ears and black leather were still there, contrasting against the fuzzy pink blanket he had wrapped around himself. He looked like a wounded kitten, with his white eyepatch bandage and his other eye squeezed tightly shut. She gently rubbed his cat ears, before touching the bandage. Looking at the slightly drooling, gangly, half-grown boy curled up like a cat, she smiled.

"I'm never going to let them hurt you."

 _I'm really not confident with this chapter, and I need some feedback on how it reads. Did I just totally botch it up? Is it the worst chapter of all chapters ever written, or is it okay? PLEASE REVIEW! I REALLY NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS SO I CAN BETTER MY WRITING!_

 _Any ideas are welcome, but I do have a pretty solid plot for this, as well as ideas for a SEQUEL!_

 _By the way, I don't know if any of my readers make fan art, but I would love to see any illustrations of this story, especially of our poor battered Chat. If any of you are interested in making FAN ART of this, I would be deeply indebted to you! I would love to see any art you come up with._

 _Many apologies for the wait._

 __Ariolfo_


	8. Chapter 8

Chat awoke with the softening light of the sun in the Western sky splaying over him like a blanket. He felt his cat ears twitch in delight, with no desire other than to stay curled up wherever he was and sunbathe like his feline namesakes. He couldn't be at home, he reasoned. He had to be back in time, on those days when Nathalie would get both him and his mother out of their modeling arrangements and cover for them while they went on a picnic, or out for a fat-filled, greasy, highly forbidden lunch. Sometimes they would sit out a bench by the Seine, and let the sun wash over them. "Sun is better than any spotlight, Adrien." She would often say. "I wish I didn't have to stand under a spotlight, and just sit in the sunlight all day."

But they both knew that would never happen as long as Agreste was around. So, they would soak it in, like every drop was their last, so they wouldn't die of thirst in that desert of a house. Every time, they would come back, and Nathalie would straighten her stance and look over her glasses at Adrien to say, "Only this once. I can't manage this again." But something in those blue eyes held sympathy for the mother and child, and the personal assistant would always find a way to get them out of the spotlight and into the sun again.

He opened his eyes, hoping against hope to see his mother, only to be met with blue eyes, not green.

"Oh, you're finally awake." She sighed in relief, setting a dish on the pink desk. "You missed dinner, but I managed to snag you some leftovers from the bakery."

Chat tried to sit up, as memory of where he was came to him, and he stared at the ceiling blinking hard, not only from the pain in his back, but in his heart.

"Chat?" Marinette sat beside him and helped sit him up against the back of the couch. "Chat, are you hungry?" He blinked again, numbly, looking at the cakes and sweets sitting on, no, HEAPED on the plate before him. Was he hungry?

There was no time he could remember not being hungry.

When his father had discovered he was Chat Noir, his first tactic had been to starve him out. The meager model's diet had been halved, then quartered. His money had been confiscated, so he couldn't buy snacks. His father had searched his eyes for defeat, fans raved about Adrien's thin figure, and Nathalie had given him one of those looks of empathy over her spectacles, and made a point of smuggling him a very healthy, but hearty meal at least once a week. She probably didn't know it, but those meals had saved his hide.

But none of her subtle sympathy had saved him from the skinnings.

The smell of baked goods brought him back to reality, and before he knew what he was doing, Chat was shoveling food down his throat.

The sweetness, texture and quality of the rich pastries was superb, but for all Chat cared, they could be dead rats the cat dragged in. It felt so good to have something to eat again, something to fill his long empty stomach with.  
"This is heaven, Princess." Moaned Chat through the last pastry.

Marinette looked at the crumbs whiskers on the alley cat and set the empty plate aside with a smile.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it Chat."

Chat swallowed what he had been chewing and lay down, belly full, to sleep peacefully.

This had to be hell.

He had woken up in the middle of the night. That in itself was nothing new. Hunger kept him up at night, if he wasn't hauled out by his ankles and whipped awake. But this was different. His cat eyes opened to Marinette's moonlight bedroom, feline ears twitching toward the sound of her even breathing. But he squeezed them shut to brace against the radiating pain that was going supernova in his stomach.

Chat was familiar with pain. He had been hurled through walls by akuma, stood under spotlights for hours on end, been whipped to the point that he passed out from agony. But this earthshattering pain in the pit of his stomach was different. He was going to die. That was the only thought he had.

Dragging himself off the couch, he thumped onto the floor and began to crawl away to die, trying to not wake up Marinette. The girl had done so much for him already, and the Princess deserved her beauty sleep. Groaning at another increase in pain he retched, then emptied his stomach on the floor. Marinette started awake and rubbed her eyes.

"Chat, what's wrong?" His only answer was a choked gurgle. Hurrying to the light, she flipped it on, blinding him. Chat struggled to pick himself up off the floor, but the girl wrapped his arm over her shoulder and helped him stagger to the sink.

He didn't know how long he'd been there heaving up his guts into the bathroom sink. Sweat dotted his face, he could feel his arms trembling as he leaned up against it. Never had he felt so sick. He threw up again and again, until he could taste acid burning his mouth and all that came up were dry heaves. Exhausted, he sank to his knees, now filthy pink blanket still wrapped around him. Marinette peeled his sweat drenched hair off his sticky face.

"Thanks Princess." He sputtered. The light in the ring flickered and faded, and Plagg dropped exhausted on the floor.

Marinette reached for a washcloth and gently wiped the unbandage part of his face

"You are one sick kitty." Chat had no energy to come up with a pun. Bracing him against the vanity, she went to the door.

"I'll find you something to wear."

"My kwami…" he whispered, gesturing to Plagg on the floor.

"I'll take care of him too."

Chat rested his head weakly against the vanity. Plagg slit open one acid green eye.  
"So the Princess took care of you?" Adrien pulled back the pink blanket and his pyjamas which had reappeared, to reveal the bandages. They had remained in place through the de-tranformation. Plagg grunted, then curled up to sleep.

"She isn't completely stupid."

Marinette opened the door and handed him an enormous t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

"They're my dad's" She explained, and stepped out to let him change. He gingerly pulled the huge shirt over his head, peeling away the pyjama top that stuck to his skin with dried blood. The borrowed shirt covered him to his knees, and he slowly peeled down the pants and discarded them with the shirt.

The pyjamas had been monogramed, and he faintly wondered if Marinette would discover his identity from the "Agreste" written on the tags. But looking and the stained and crumpled heaps, stiff with dried blood, he knew she never would suspect. Looking at HIMSELF in the bathroom mirror, he wondered if the face plastered all over Paris was even him.

The boy staring back at him had a huge white bangage over one eye and side of his face. The other eye was a weary acid green, with a bag under it. There where white heads dotting his temple, and freckles on his sweaty cheek. There was the scar on his chin he had gotten when first trying to fence. It had been covered up so often, he'd forgotten it was there. His hair was a rat's palace, sticking straight up at impossible angles.

No wonder Marinette hadn't recognized Adrien Agreste. He didn't recognize himself.

 _For those wondering what was wrong with Chat, eating all that rich food after so long without proper nourishment caused his stomach to overload and expel all the food it was not used to digesting. This is real, because a starving person's stomach isn't used to handling so much food, and if you've been starved and suddenly stuff yourself with food, you will suffer extreme pain_

 _Sorry for the graphic grossness, but I felt I couldn't write it any other way._

 _The plot will thicken! Just you wait!_

 __Ariolfo_


	9. Chapter 9

Stepping back into the bathroom, Marinette found Chat staring blankly at his own refection, his face so close to the mirror, his ragged breath fogged the glass. Her father's huge shirt she had given to him to wear hung like a huge bag on his spindly frame. With no taunt black leather holding him together, Chat looked more fragile than ever.

"Chat." He turned his face to her, his eyes focusing. "Chat, I'm going to try to help you get back to my room now. Do you think you can do that, Chat?" Nodding, he stepped toward her, half collapsing on her shoulder with a moan of pain. Putting his arm over her shoulders, she helped him in the agonizing process of putting one shaky leg in front of the other.

Sounds seemed to be twice as loud in the silence of the early morning hours. Every squeaking board, every ragged breath and pant stood her hairs on end. They tiptoed past her parent's room, her dad's snoring rattling the door. Marinette winced when Chat stepped on a loose floorboard, causing a particularly loud squeak. The pair froze at the sound, Chat's labored breathing so loud, Marinette could hear it over her thundering heart. The snoring paused for a moment…. Then resumed, as if deciding whatever it was could wait until morning. Breathing again, Marinette got Chat's feet back under him and continued on.

It was quiet, and peaceful in her room, streetlights spilling through her round window and painting a false moon on the floor with their light. Settling Chat on his side, so he wouldn't hurt his tormented back further, Marinette then tiptoed back downstairs for a washcloth and some water. Chat was asleep by the time she got back, and the sounds she made as she cleaned up the bedroom floor seemed so loud to her tense eardrums that she half expected him to wake up. But he snored on, and after she deemed the floor to look presentable, she tiptoed back down to the bathroom to rise the sink. The bathroom light was still on. After turning on the water full blast, she rinsed as much of the mess down the drain as she could. Marinette splashed her face with the water, watching as spray drops crawled down the mirror and past her haggard reflection. She looked worn and tense, her freckles standing out like pinpricks of pigment on her pale face, her eyes wide and staring. Dampening her hair to get it out of the way, she pulled the stray black tendrils out of her eyes before jumping when she heard an unfamiliar drawl.

"When your beauty routine is done, you might want to pick those up."

Snapping her eyes to the sink top, she beheld a little whiskered being, all black, with large pointed ears and neon green eyes. The kwami was still too weak to hover or fly about. He was still, a little black blotch lying on the white sink top. Most humans would have screamed and tried to swat him like a fly, but Marinette knew exactly what he was, and only replied. "Pick what up?" He pointed with a tiny limb to a crumpled maroon cloth. But as Marinette neared the cloth, she noticed it had originally been white. And it wasn't a cloth. Picking it up by the collar, she looked with horror at what had once been a pyjama top. Its matching bottom was beneath it, also stained red.

Marinette wanted to scream, to cry, to faint with shock.

But all those emotions had been spent. She had no more tears to cry. The stiff, blood clotted clothes filled her with nothing but determination. Bending down to snatch up the pants, she tucked the bloodstained cloth under her arm and scooped up the cat kwami in the other. She marched down the stairs to the bakery. Setting the limp creature on the table, she went to the oven and turned up the temperature knob as far as it would go. She thumped the bloodied pyjamas on the table, and poked the kwami to wake him. "Cheeeeese." He moaned. Well, that was one way to find out what he ate. Rooting around among the supplies in the bakery, Marinette turned up a half wheel of Brie and a mozzarella cheese stick. She laid them both beside the unconscious kwami.

Then, Marinette yanked open the great baking oven, feeling the red hot inside burn with all the fury she felt in her for the cruelty done. Satisfied that her inferno was hot enough for her purpose, Marinette turned to the condemned clothes, caked with their crimes against Chat. Opening the door, Marinette took the damned bloody clothes and tossed them into her makeshift hell, and slammed the door, burning all the blood and pain in Chat's past to bakery ashes.

Satisfied that the job was done, Marinette turned off the oven and scooped up the kwami, (who had somehow managed to eat all the cheese in his sleep) to carry him to her room. Walking up the steps to her room, Marinette was stopped by a drowsy voice.

"Marinette, are you alright?" Sabine rubbed her eyes until they glowed with wakefulness in the dark.

"It's two in the morning. Why are you up?"

"I, um…" Marinette's frantic mind fumbled for an excuse. "I, um… lost my earring and suddenly remembered where I lost it?"

"Did you find it? It would be a shame if you lost it, you like that pair of earrings so much."

"Oh, I did. See." careful not to let her mother see the kwami clutched in her other hand, Marinette fished the earring she had removed out of the pocket of her sleep pants. "Right here!"

"That's good, dear. Here, let me put it back on for you." And before Marinette could react, her mother had plucked the earring out of her hand and was gesturing for her to lean in closer. Too afraid to not oblige and raise suspicion, Marinette tilted her head to her mother and felt the earring clip back into place.

"That's better. Now, go to bed young lady."

"Goodnight Mom!"

And with that Marinette bolted for her room, not breathing until she slammed the trapdoor shut behind her. Relieved to see Chat still asleep on the couch, she laid his kwami on his shoulder, and smiled at the two curled up asleep.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her head as she heard a familiar high voice ring in her ears.

"We need to talk."

Marinette turned to face Tikki.

 _I was planning to continue the chapter, but I felt it had to be cut off here. Their conversation will most likely be the next chapter, though I might change it up._

 _For everyone who's asking about Chat's scars, I will have a more detailed description later in the story. For those confused about my earlier comparison of his face with those of Prince Zuko and the Phantom of the Opera, those two examples were used mainly because they demonstrate the area of the face that is scarred. Chat's scars do not look exactly like those of Zuko or the Phantom, because they were caused by different things. Zuko's burn and the Phantom's facial disfigurement produce a different scar than a stray whiplash. Also, Chat's face was raw and bleeding at the time, the blood giving the red effect similar to Zuko's burn scar. It will of course look different cleaned of blood and healing. For Chat's back, look up "slave whipping scars, runaway slave Gordon". You should get a black and white photo of and African American man with his scarred back to the camera._

 _ALL REVIEWS WELCOME!_

 _Ariolfo_


	10. Chapter 10

_Sorry, a situation came up at work where someone was fired and I had to do a whole bunch of extra work to make up for it. I am back now, though. PLEASE REVIEW!_

Natalie Sancoeur was many things. A cool liar. A unreadable poker face. A experienced expert in covering up whatever for whoever paid her to cover it up. Divorces, abortions, murders, Natalie had made a living of cleaning all the dirty laundry of the rich and famous, ironing it, and folding it away to be tucked neatly in a remote corner where no one would ever spot the blood stains. She was never told the details and she never pried for them.

It was good business. And Natalie was a ruthless businesswoman.

All her life she had made her way in the world by forging documents, changing records, arranging for body doubles and make-up artists and all the bells and whistles so the mayor could get that divorce, so the big boss got off scot free, so the old hubby could have his pretty girlfriend. And she learned better yet what she had known all her life. All people are cruel, manipulative, selfish and dishonest. And the only way she would survive was if she kept a straight face and played along.

And then there was Mrs. Agreste.

Nathalie had been hired by Gabriel Agreste, publicly as a personal assistant, in reality to cover up his purchases of rare artifacts on the Chinese black market. It was a job like any other, just another selfish, greedy rich man, desperate to get his hands on some dusty old toys. She never gave it a second thought.

Then the girl-child had shown up.

He had brought her back from Tibet like yet another priceless antique, with living flesh of gold and eyes of purest emerald. Gabriel glowed with pride at his find, this exotic doll from the far east, perfection in living form.

Natalie saw a half grown teen-age girl, who knew precisely ten words in French, far from home and perfectly scared.

Agreste had dumped the girl at her desk and told her to make a Frenchwoman out of her. Nathalie had taken care of the registration papers and citizenship, all expertly forged, straightened her desk and went to leave.

The golden-haired girl was still standing there alone in the cavernous marble office, slightly slanted grass green eyes focused on her feet.

Natalie picked up her i-pad, tucked it under her arm, and headed for the door.

The girl still stood there.

The dark-haired woman sighed and pushed up her spectacles.

"Do you want anything to eat? I could get you coffee."

The child looked up with the brightest green eyes she had ever seen and said something in, was that TIBETIAN?

"Mon Dieu." Groaned the Frenchwoman taking the girl by the hand and leading her out the door. "He doesn't pay me enough for this."

Over coffee and tea, with a great deal of miscommunication. (Nathalie thanked the heavens for google translate.) the forger and the foreigner got to know each other.

Sonam, as she was called in Tibet, was far from the porcelain doll Gabriel had fallen for. The girl cursed venomously in rapid fire Tibetian and Mandarin when she burnt her tongue on her tea and ranted idealistically about all the corruption cover-ups Nathalie had done. Sonam was passionate and naïve, completely oblivious to the world she had entered and its unspoken rules. She had about the chance of a snowball in hell if anyone ever uncovered what a frank, stubborn and caring young woman she was behind Gabriel's perfect painting. They would be on her like dogs on a cat, and they would tear her apart.

So Natalie decided then that she would be there to protect this Tibetian girl, by the only means she had in her power.

Time to cover up.

Nathalie was the indulgent older sister, the one who could be bought with a "pretty please" and the brightest green kitten eyes ever imported to France. Sonam would always run to her when she got homesick, or lonely or bored and fed up with Gabriel and his endless photoshoots. And although Nathalie tried to keep up the professional façade, with a steady stream of no, Sonam always brought it down with a crash.

"But Jie-jie." She would whine, using the Mandarin endearment for older sister. "Please, I do want some _momo_ dumplings. Isn't there anywhere in France that sells _momo_ dumplings?"

"You, SONG," replied Natalie, emphasizing the name Gabriel and the press knew her by. "Are on a DIET. A very strict diet. You are a model now and I can't go on spoiling you with yak wraps or whatever other rich Tibetian foods you crave. I'll get fired and…"

"I'm pregnant."

The room went silent. Nathalie's fingers stopped their incessant tapping n the key board and she looked at Sonam over her glasses.

"What?" the word rung out, sharp and clear as the blue gaze glaring down at the nineteen year old who was still a child in her eyes.

"Yeah…" the words trailed out into the silence.

Natalie's fingers began tapping with a frenzy.

"I'll get an appointment."

"For a doctor?"

"For an abortion."

"WHAT?! NO!"

Nathalie pulled off her glasses and grabbed Sonam by the shoulders.

"Sonam. You're nineteen. You're too young to handle a pregnancy. I'll arrange it then it will be forgotten like it never happened."

"No."

"This is the kind of stuff I DO, Sonam."

"NO!" Sonam tore away from Nathalie's grip, hugging her arms around herself.

"Didn't I tell you, why I was so desperate to leave Tibet?" she whispered. "No one wanted me. No one loved me. I was like some feral kitten on the streets, always waiting to be thrown into the river to drown like the vermin I was. Gabriel made me an offer and I took it. I know I didn't get the better end of the deal. But I got out of there. And I promised myself I would never make anyone suffer the way I did. Especially not my own child."

"Sonam."

"I'm keeping him."

"Sonam."

"I WANT TO KEEP HIM!"

"Gabriel isn't going to care what you want." By now, Sonam's green eyes were streaking tears. "Sonam, you're his top model. The face and flesh of his brand. Do you think he's going to let you take off nine months and more? Do you think he'll let your size number go up? Do you think he'll stand for a model with swollen ankles, stretch marks, and baggy eyes from nights watching the baby? No. You know Gabriel. He won't tolerate any of that. And don't even say he loves you. I know both your schedules. You barely speak. He loves your image, who he thinks you are. The perfect girlfriend and fiancé. He loves Song. Not Sonam."

"Natalie, please help me, please. I could leave him. I could live with you."

"He owns you."

"Jie-jie, please." Sonam was clinging to Natalie's knees, the older woman gently carding through her golden hair, like a mother soothing a child.

"There is no way Gabriel will do anything not in his brand's best interest."

But the seed of an idea had been planted in Natalie's mind. If she could convince Gabriel that a son would be worth giving Sonam the time to have a child, pitching the whole thing as a business endeavor she might make this work. She could play Sonam's beauty to their advantage, convince him the child would inherit some of the good look genes. A model trained from birth, children's fashion and a whole new audience to market to. Gabriel Agreste might buy that. Nathalie would design the argument, tailor the facts to their advantage. She might be able to pull it off.

"Please…"

"I get to pick the name."

Sonam's head snapped up blinking back tears. "What?"

Natalie turned back to the computer and looked up the best pregnancy center in Paris. She tilted the screen toward the wide green eyes.

"I get to pick the name."

 _This chapter is further setting up both Nathalie and Mrs. Agreste and significant characters in the plot. Both will be deeply involved, but I won't spoil it! I see Nathalie as quite a bit older that Mrs. Agreste. Sonam was a sort of trophy bride Gabriel brought back from the East. I imagine her to be the daughter of some Caucasian immigrants to Tibet, because although her eyes are slightly slanted, she does not have the typical dark hair and features of the region. This is also why Adrien learned Mandarin Chinese._

 _Also, because Gabriel is Hawkmoth and has a lot of secrets to hide, I imagine Nathalie to be sort of covering for him, when he's not places he's supposed to be because he's Hawkmoth, or he's spending money shopping for miraculous and people are wondering where the cash is going. She sort of evolved into a sort of cover-up for hire to anyone who has the money. But she truly cares for Sonam and uses her forgery skills in falsifying records and documents to help her._

 _Momo dumplings are traditional to Tibet, Sonam is a Tibetan name. I looked all that up on the fly, so it might be wrong. Don't be offended._

PLEASE REVIEW!


	11. Chapter 11

No one looking at the peaceful, moon-drenched bakery, could have dreamed that in the frilly pink bedroom of an innocent girl, a battle was taking place in which the fate of the entire life of a young man would be decided.

Tikki spoke first. "I'm disappointed in you."

Marinette said nothing.

"Really, Marinette, you should know better! I told you to listen to me and I told you to follow the rules, but you ignored me!"

"I had no choice."

" Your only choice was to stay uninvolved. But you didn't do that, did you? You brought Chat Noir here, brought the embodiment of bad luck HERE, and now everything is a mess!"

"I had to do it!" Marinette's blue eyes burned into Tikki's. "How can you be so cruel, to be able to watch him suffer alone and not care?!"

"All possessors of the black cat ring suffer in one way or another. It's the way things are, the way things have been, since the beginning of the miraculous. It's something that must be accepted as unchangeable."

The ancient being hovered in the moonlight, casting a shadow on the mortal below her.

"As a human, you are ignorant of the delicate balance between destruction and creation. But you must understand. Chat Noir must return to his former life, and you must involve yourself no further with him."

"Maybe I am ignorant. Maybe I don't understand the cosmic balance. But," the girl straightened in defiance. "There is something I can and do understand. I can't leave him alone in pain. No."

Marinette positioned herself between her kitten and her kwami. "Chat is staying here, with me. He is never going back."

Eyes widening, the kwami tried a different tactic. "Think of your family, your life Marinette! Ever wondered why your bakery is so popular? Why no one ever gets hurt in the kitchen, even with those powerful baking ovens? Why you and Alya never fight? Why everyone likes your designs?"

"Luck, that's why. MY luck. With me as your kwami, everything and everyone around you is blessed with good fortune. What do you think will happen if you spend time around Chat Noir? His misfortune will counter any blessing you have. My magic will no longer work on you. What do you think that means?"

Tikki flew into Marinette's face, darting forward with each word. "Accidents. Hospital bills. Poor business. Arguments. All sorts of misfortunes."

Beady blue eyes gazed into Marinette's, questioning. "Is he worth it?"

Marinette was frozen, Tikki's warnings ringing in her head. With all the bad luck it would bring, was it worth it?

Her eyes fell on Chat, swathed in gauze, peacefully purring in his sleep, Plagg asleep on his shoulder.

Was it worth it?

"Yes, He is."

Tikki sighed. "I guess you just won't listen to me." Her eyes turned flinty at the sight of the curled up cat kwami. Her eyes turned to Marinette.

"From now on, you can say good-bye to my advice. I'll appear when you need to transform, but don't expect to see me otherwise."

"You're leaving?"

"You disobeyed me and broke the rules. You are no longer worth of my guidance. I revoke all my blessings from you and your house."

"But Tikki!" Marinette protested.

"It's me, or him!" Tikki snapped. "And you've made your choice." The kwami flew to the window, before turning.

"One last thing." Her eyes had all the anger of an affronted goddess. "If, as Ladybug, you treat Chat with any deference, any sympathy, any difference. If you tell him your identity, or let him slack in his duties or interfere with his job. Or if you let your feelings get in the way of your duty, I will take drastic measures."

The deity eyed her counterpart and his chosen with distain.

"As Ladybug, you will treat him with professional distance and detachment. If I sense anything different, the slightest sympathy, any softness at all…"

"Yes! Yes," Marinette bowed her head to the rage of the tiny god. "I'll ignore him. I'll boss him around. I'll do anything. Just let me keep him."

She raised her head to look at the being who had once been her friend and mentor, only to spot the ladybug kwami flying off into the Paris night.

 _Yes, I had Tikki leave. With her, it's "my way or the highway". Marinette is still Ladybug. Tikki didn't take the miraculous away from her, because she needs Marinette to be Ladybug so they can defeat Hawkmoth. Kwami can't directly fight a human, they need a chosen to engage in human affairs. Tikki is willing to kill Adrien, or curse him, to keep the balance of the miraculous. Yes, Chat's bad luck will feature in future chapters. Marinette will be forced to, while Ladybug, to be cold and distant toward Chat, out of fear of what Tikki will do if she senses any sentimentality. It will cause great emotional distress for her remain so detached from Chat as Ladybug as she grows more attached to him as Marinette. If you're asking, "Why doesn't Nooroo just leave like Tikki did" number one, the kwami can't go too far. Tikki can't go to the other side of Paris. Her connection to the earrings keeps her relatively nearby. And number two, as soon as the code phrase is said, the kwami is sucked toward the miraculous. If the kwami isn't directly nearby, it takes a bit longer for them to reach the miraculous and enter it, causing the length of time between the shouting of the phrase and the appearance of the suit and mask to be much longer. This transformation delay will also figure in future chapters._


	12. Chapter 12

Plagg's exhausted green eyes blinked open, taking in the scene around him. He blinked again, and his eyes widened when he saw that the pink pillows and the fuzzy blanket wrapped around his chosen hadn't dissolved into a roof for a bed and a streetlamp for a heater.

The boy was still knocked out, a soft purring snore escaping lips still red with blood, seeping slowly from a lash that had licked the corner of his mouth.

A small soft smile spread across the cat kwami's face, before he self-consciously wiped it away.

Adrien was safe. For now. Whether he would remain so was entirely in the hands of the girl who was now staring, red eyed out the window. Plagg streaked over to Marinette, trying intently to read her face. Her complexion was blotchy and flushed, and she was intently watching the dawn, like a person who had had the cushy rug they were standing on pulled abruptly out from under them.

"The Ladybug came here, didn't she?"

Marinette's head snapped up, eyes dancing in a panic. "What? Do you know?"

Plagg glared acidly at the rising sun. "I knew Tikki would try to interfere."

Black hair fell over Marinette's face as she bowed her head. "Yes. Tikki came here."

If Plagg hadn't been the immortal manifestation of bad luck, he would have held his breath. But the human girl offered no more information, just shakily fingered her bare ear. For all his immortality, Plagg was not a very patient person.

"Oh, for the sake of all misfortune, girl, tell me what happened!" He glared in contempt at the human female. "You gave him up, didn't you? Tikki offered you your dream life, with a gorgeous hubby and eternal good looks and you gave up my kitten for some picture perfect future! Didn't you?"

"No."

The word shot through Plagg's tiny wrinkled heart with the most painful dart of hope. No one had ever said no to Tikki. For millennia, all humans had done everything they could to appease the goddess of good luck and fortune. Humans would do anything for a little bit of luck. Who could say no?

"You said NO?"

"She really wanted me to give him up. Something about balance and misfortune, or some junk like that. She was really mad about it" Marinette rubbed her sniffly nose and stiff cheeks. "But I told her no."

"You said no…" Plagg whispered the words like a prayer.

She shrugged and looked at the crumpled cat boy on the couch. "I couldn't."

"You, some random, mortal human girl, took the chosen of chaos incarnate under your roof and refuse the goddess of creation in all her anger?" The little floating black cat took in the baggy eyes, unkempt, sleep deprived teenager before him with new eyes.

"You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are something else."

Chat awoke still snug in his safe pocket of peace. It was late in the day, and the sun was already high in the sky. Plagg was hovering before the window, a black shadow against the sunny day, and Chat thought in that moment, he looked more like a god guarding his temple than a mischievous, gluttonous cat-fairy. He looked so stern and forbidding, it almost frightened Adrien.

"Plagg?"

The kwami turned, and yawned, slow and lazy. And Adrien forgot about the moment before the window.

"Where's Marinette?" the pink clad girl who had saved him was nowhere to be seen.

"She's at _school_. It's only Wednesday."

Plagg nodded at a plate of some light breakfast foods on the desk. "She left that for you to eat. I had to tell her what she could give you or else you would heave up your guts again." Chat started to get up to get the plate, but Plagg waved him down and flew the plate to him. Adrien tentatively picked up the saltine crackers and unbuttered toast. "Are you sure I can eat this?"

Plagg gave him a dark look. "You're far from the first starving cat I've had to deal with."

Chat began to wolf down the food, but Plagg snapped. "SMALL bites! Do you WANT to get sick again?" after which he slowed down. Before he knew it, he was sinking out of consciousness at an alarming rate…

"Look who's finally awake." Adrien blinked open his green eyes to see Marinette haloed by her desk lamp, textbooks strewn about her and Plagg looking over her homework. It was late evening now, and the city of lights was peeping in the round window. Chat ran his hand through his messy hair and quipped back. "It was just a cat nap."

Marinette rolled her eyes slightly "If your punning, you must be better."

"Actually," the words pounced out before Chat could bite his tongue. "Punning is a good way to get my mind off the pain."

Marinette's lips went white, and Chat ducked his head in shame.

"I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about that."

"No, Chat." Marinette gently pulled his face to hers. "I want you to tell me. If you want to."

"I guess, I don't know where to start, except where it started. At first it was freedom. Then food. After he found out I wasn't the perfect kid he created me to be, it got worse. He would beat me, then cover it up, so his work wouldn't be ruined. Until he saw I was so imperfect that it didn't matter if he tore me to pieces. The night you found me…." Chat put his hand to his face. "He went all out, it didn't matter if it got me where someone would see it. I wasn't his son anymore. I was just Chat Noir."

"Tell me…" Her voice shook with rage, but her eyes were cold and steady. "Tell me who he is."

How could he, how could you tell the only person who had seen you in your worst state and shown you kindness, that you were the son of the worst monster to walk the earth in human form. He could not bear to see her kindness turn to fear, her care to disgust.

Chat shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters! YOU matter!" Marinette seemed ready to explode, but calmed down when she saw his drawn and pained face.

"Could you at least tell me your name?"

"I think…" Chat tried to smile, but couldn't. "A name ceases to be yours when it's screamed into your ear in the dead of night. I'd rather if you not call me that."

"I'll call you whatever you like."

"Your Knight in Shining Leather?"

"Not that."

"You do know cats must have three different names."

"Let's just start with one."

"Just call me Chat. I'd like that."

"Okay, Chat. Now go to sleep."

"Your wish is my command, Princess."


	13. Chapter 13

Marinette used to think confessing to Adrien Agreste was the hardest think she would ever have to do. But when a certain cut up cat entered her life, her problems got a whole lot bigger.

She hadn't seen Tikki since the night she had given the ultimatum. Her or Chat. The cookies she left on her balcony would always disappear, but Marinette couldn't be sure if they had been eaten by a kwami or hungry pigeon. Tikki, her trusted mentor and confidant, had really left her. Marinette had really cared for the sweet little kwami, and still found it hard to believe that Tikki, who had seemed so wise and kind, could declare some mystical tradition of balance to be more important than a human being's suffering. Talking to Plagg about his counterpart was no use. The lazy and carefree cat kwami harbored great bitterness and resentment in his soul, for wrongs so painful he would not speak of them. His only explanation was, "She's always been that way, since I could remember. She never got the short end of the stick, and never will, so she can't understand. For Tikki, order is the most important thing in this world. But a lot of the time, that order is just plain wrong."

Marinette had not yet tried to transform since Tikki left her. She would hypothesize about the meeting, what it would be like. Would she still be able to fight? Would Tikki come back with her? Or would she force her to give up Chat?

Marinette decided to put it off for as long as she could.

Another matter was the abrupt halt in akuma appearances. It was as if Hawkmoth had suddenly decided to take a vacation. But Marinette doubted he when to the beach to work on his tan. Whatever Hawkmoth was up to, it was no good.

If an akuma did appear, Chat would insist on fighting it. From her time as his partner, and even more from her time as his friend, she knew he wouldn't leave Ladybug and Paris to fend for themselves. Plagg might resist, but Chat would get into the fray, one way or another. She couldn't let him do that to himself. His injuries had weakened him, and if he started to leap around on rooftops any time soon, he might torture himself more. Marinette would wince each time she saw his lashes, her own nerves twitching at the mere thought of the agony he must be feeling. If he battled an akuma…

No, she wouldn't let that happen.

Chat was safely hidden in her room for now, but Marinette knew their luck was running short. She couldn't keep him in her room forever. Someone would eventually find him, and then what would they do? What if that monster he called father reclaimed him? How could she let him return to that life so miserable it could hardly be called a life? Marinette wished she knew who the man was, so she could hunt him down as Ladybug and lock him in the deepest, darkest, most secure prison in the world, so he could never come near Chat again. But Chat refused to reveal the man's identity. And even if she did know who he was, she couldn't use her ladybug powers. Tikki would take it out on Chat.

The fear of her parent's finding Chat was also very real. Marinette would like to believe her parents would never hurt a fly, much less a hurt boy seeking protection. But hadn't she also believed the same of Tikki? Her faith in the people she loved had been shaken, and she could no longer trust what their reaction would be. For all she knew, they would return Chat!

Every day she would come home from school, her heart would wrestle with fears that Chat might be gone, tossed out like a stray onto the street or dragged off to be killed slowly day after day. Each time she hear a soft purring snore, or a cheery "Hi, Princess!" she would exhale in relief. Then she would unload her books and they would talk. Just talk, about anything and everything. Something she had never permitted during missions, something she was too scared to do with Adrien. It was jus so easy to talk to Chat. He could be witty and funny, and sober and serious. Once, she had complained about something her mother had said, and he had looked her very deeply in the eyes.

"You only get one mom. Never take her for granted."

"What happened to your mom? Do you miss her?"

"I miss her. A lot. She … walked out on my dad. No warning. I don't know where she went. I don't think anyone does."

Nathalie never knew that morning how that day would change the course of her life. An elderly gentleman had walked into the Agreste mansion, his red floral shirt contrasting with the elegant white marble. He needed a job, he had explained. Anything would do. Nathalie coldly sized him up, judging the amount of work he could provide, and saw his body was old and sickly. Looking back down at the tablet in her hands, she told him to go to maintenance for supplies and polish every doorknob. That chore had already been done, but it was simple, easy, and meaningless, and he obviously needed the money. When he had finished, she gave him a hundred euros out of her pocket and sent him on his way without a second thought.

Later that day, a black hexagonal box had been delivered to her desk, covered on red enscriptions. It was exquisite and mysterious, and Nathalie, ever the uncurious, had the urge to open it. But she locked her hands firmly around it. She had no right to pry into deliveries, if she wanted to keep her job. If she lost her position, how would she see Sonam and Adrien? The Agreste Mansion was practically a prison, no one knew that better than Natalie herself. So, though she felt an inherent wrongness in every step, she let herself into Gabriel's private office and placed the delivery on his desk. She stared at it a minute. It looked so misplaced there. But it was just another of his blackmarket antiques. No reason for her to feel anything about it. It wasn't hers.

Natalie shook her head and shut the door.

She had seen Sonam afterwards for their evening tea. Both women would relax and take off their masks, Sonam kicking off her heels, dancing to some funky music, messing up and tripping every other step, or laughing at some arrogant co-worker.  
"It was totally SUPER to get stuck with such a MODEL of perfectly stuck up behavior." And Nathalie would laugh into her tea, the occasional drop of earl gray splashing onto her shirt.

"Jie jie, you will NEVER believe what would happened to me today!" Not waiting for an answer, Sonam revealed a delicate brooch, in the likeness of a butterfly, pinned to her now ruffled blouse. Natalie replaced her spectacles, and looked at the piece of jewelry. "It's quite nice. But I've never known you to get excited over jewelry."

"It just appeared on my make-up desk. Adrien was at an awfully long shoot. I hate it when Gabriel forces him into those horribly long shoots. He's only thirteen. It's no life for a child. But…" Sonam took another sip of tea. "I was alone at the paint shop," Nathalie snorted at Sonam's nickname for the make-up room. "And it just appeared. And I can't wait to see your face when you see what comes with the brooch."

She cupped her hands to her mouth and called, "Come on out, Noorroo! It's just Jie jie. You're safe."

Nathalie was a very realistic sort of person. If something couldn't be explained by logic, it simply didn't exist. But the hovering purple doll with butterfly wings was certainly no tea induced hallucination.

"Hi, I'm Nooroo. Sonam's kwami and inhabitant of the butterfly miraculous."

Nathalie had no idea how to respond, so she automatically replied. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nooroo, but Gabriel Agreste is unavailable. Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

Sonam laughed until she choked on her tea. "PRICELESS!"

When Nathalie got over her surprise and Sonam over her laughing fit, Nooroo explained the workings of the miraculous to them. Nathalie had never seen Sonam look so excited and carefree since she married Gabriel and became an Agreste. And with the shout of "Nooroo, Wings rise!" and a flash of purple light, Sonam was clad in filmy violet fabric.

The suit was airy and light, like it would take off at any moment. It didn't confine Sonam, but freed her, her hair studded with tiny purple moth fluttering loosely down her face. On her back were enormous veined wings, trailing down her shoulders and dragging on the floor. It suited her, the butterfly. Wild and free and joyful. That was all that Sonam was and yet couldn't be. But in that moment, she was free. Perfectly so.

Nathalie should have known that this perfect moment couldn't last.

It was only two short days later, when Sonam came to Nathalie in a panic. Her brooch was gone and she was babbling about power and madness and a hawk's moth and how she and Adrien, how she and Adrien had to get out of there RIGHT NOW, right now!

"Slow down!" Nathalie ordered. "You can't just walk out just like that. We need to do this right."

"Will you help us, Jie jie?"

"I will always help you, Sonam."

If Gabriel ever found out, Nathalie was so getting fired.

 _So, a lot of information dumped on you at once. So many revelations, and so many more to come. I'm not going to be able to write for a bit, so I thought I'd give you a longer chapter as an apology. More flashbacks with Sonam(Adrien's mom) and Nathalie._

 _PLEASE REVIEW!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Sorry for the delay. I had a chance to get a promotion and lost it , so I was pretty miffed about that. Updates will be done as frequently as possible, which may not be too frequent. PLEASE REVIEW!_

Adrien was gone. Nathalie had quietly informed Mr. Agreste, made a public statement that Adrien was on an indefinite modeling tour of America, and went to England personally to hire Felix, Adrien's usual body double, to cover for him for however long the Agreste Company needed. All these tasks were performed quickly, efficiently, and with impeccable professionalism. But Nathalie was in agony. She knew every detail of Adrien's schedule had been so cautious with his whereabouts, and now, he was gone, and there hadn't been a sighting of him for over a week.

Unlike the last Agreste disappearance, she did not orchestrate this one.

"What do you mean, Adrien's not coming? Jie-jie, you don't know what Gabriel will do to him! I am not leaving here without my son!"

"Sonam." Nathalie pushed her glasses back up when they slipped. "There is no possible way I can pull off a double disappearance. Making one person vanish off the face of the Earth is very time-consuming, and with a famous face like yours, it's doubly difficult. You and Adrien traveling together will be much easier to track. Besides, if both of you are gone, Gabriel will have no models for the Winter Fashion Festival, and therefore nothing to distract him from looking for you."

Sonam opened her mouth to protest but Nathalie raised her hand. "Sonam, I know it's hard for you. And I know it will be hard on Adrien, when his mother vanishes without a trace the week after Christmas. But if you leave alone, you can have time to get your feet under you in China, get a job, an apartment, have a place ready for Adrien when I find an opportunity to send him to you. If you leave with Adrien, Agreste will know you escaped, but if you disappear alone, he'll be thrown off course, because he knows you would never leave your son behind."

Sonam sighed. "Can't I tell him? Write him a letter? Tell him I'm doing this to protect him? It will hurt him so much if I just leave him."

"Not a word. For his own safety, you have to leave him alone."

Marinette's lips trembled in a stifled scream, her arms shook from the strength it took to keep from reaching out to Chat. But she curbed herself, the spotted suit and its implications keeping her in check.

"Not a word." She whispered fiercely to herself, as Chat gaily flung taunts to distract the akuma. "For his own safety, you have to leave him alone."

The little earrings were like pounding weights, boring into her mind with every sight of Chat, who, for all her great power, she had no power to reach out and stop.

"Come on, you mangy mutt!" cat called Chat from the lamppost he had barely scampered onto. "You _canine_ catch me!"

The massive maw of Hellhound slobbered and foamed, acid dog drool dribbling to the smoking pavement. Unable to reach to cat-boy, he raised his head a howled, the sound so loud it caused Chat to grab desperately at his cat ears as the sound pierced his brain.

Zipping out her yo-yo, Ladybug grabbed desperately at the spiked collar on Hellhound's chunky neck, but it simply bounced off the metal. If she hadn't been aware of Chat's condition, she would have asked him to jump onto the akuma's back to grab the object. But there was no way she was going to ask him to pounce on a ten-ton dog with his injuries. She wanted nothing more than to drop everything and carry him back home, where he would be safe. But Ladybug did not have that luxury. Hellhound rammed his shoulder against the lamppost and the still disoriented Chat tottered on top of it. Ladybug desperately called for her lucky charm, hoping whatever fell out would help her defeat Hellhound without hurting Chat. What fell out was a cheery sign, in the usual bright red polka-dot theme, with a message written in cutesy, stylized bubble letters.

PROVE YOURSELF

If it hadn't been the heat of battle, Marinette would have screamed, cried, ranted on injustice, declared there was no way she was going to make Chat do something she knew he physically COULDN'T DO just to PROVE HERSELF to Tikki!

But choices have to be made, and we don't always have time in which to make them, and all in the space of an instant, she shouted the order.

"Chat, jump down and grab the collar!"

And as she watched him automatically obey, she had never hated herself more.

His wounds were paining him, she could see, his was face twisting as he crouched to pounce. Landing on the sinewy back of the writhing beast, he locked his claws around the collar, trying to rip it off. Bucking like a mad rodeo horse, Hellhound shook Chat like a dog might shake a toy, twisting and turning and once even rolling over top of him. When Chat still wouldn't let go, the furious animal threw its head back, knocking Chat with the base of its rock-hard skull. Chat flew right over her head, crashing into the store window behind her. She turned and saw him lying there in the shattered remains of the windowpane, the collar held just so she wouldn't even prick her toe on a shard of glass to reach it.

Wordlessly, she took it and broke it over her knee, automatically cleansing the akuma and repeating the catch-phrase she knew so well. She watched silently, as the window and the world rebuilt themselves, the pane realigning perfectly, like nothing had happened. Like Chat hadn't risked his life while injured to save the city and gotten pierced for his pains.

He was the only thing the magic couldn't or wouldn't fix.

Ladybug ran until the reporters stopped her. They clustered around her like flies to honey, gabbling about how this was a really tough akuma and it was amazing how she had beaten it so quickly and it was a record time, and what was her strategy and how awesome it was …

"Bug out, BUG OUT!" she yelled desperately, finally wrenching herself away from the microphones and zipping toward the nearest alleyway.

"That was great, Marinette!" chimed Tikki. "I was worried, but you made the right decision and I'm so proud.."

"Get away from me! I have nothing to say to you!" Marinette fled, leaving empty praise behind. She dashed around the huddle that had formed around the akuma victim, reporters questioning him about his experience. "I don't know, man, but it felt like he was really mad about sumptin' , real furious, I could almost feel it in my head…" Just a few yards away from this, Chat was still lying where he had landed when Hellhound threw him. His eyes flicked open as her shadow fell across him.

"Mari…" His split lip attempted a smile.

"You stupid cat!" she half shouted, half sobbed, throwing herself beside him. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Nine lives."

"And I'm not letting you waste any. Come on." Looping his arm around her shoulder, she started to walk them home.

They weren't going to make it. A shaking breath, a shaking step, a grunt of pain, a smile that's feigned. Most people were either intent on their errands or interested in seeing the akuma scene. Not many people noticed one half of Paris superhero team supported by a civilian, and Marinette was caught between being relieved and being angry about that. The akuma battle wasn't near the bakery, and they would have to walk to the subway, ride a few stops, and walk a little farther to get home.  
"How much farther, Princess?" Chat panted, and Marinette was caught in indecision.

"Can you detransform?" the code phrase was whispered and Chat tottered as he lost the extra strength and support the suit gave him. He leaned the unbandaged part of his face on her shoulder, and she carefully held him so she wouldn't disturb his wounds.

"Plagg, I'm going for help. Can you take care of him?"

"I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen! Stupid kid…"

"We both can yell at him when we get home, but we're not going to get him home by ourselves."

"It's better if he's in the suit, it'll protect him a bit more."

"Can you do that? I don't have cheese…"

"I'll manage."

"Chat?" Marinette shook the boy gently. "Chat, can you wait here? I'll come back, I promise. I need you to transform."

"Don't leave me." The pitiful appeal went to her heart.

"I have to, I'll be right back."

After he had transformed, she left him lying on a park bench located somewhat hidden near a tree. Pounding down the pavement, she scurried into the subway to grab her train.

As soon as Nathalie saw the news, she swiftly left her desk and got into her car.

That was him.

"Why what's wrong, Marinette?" asked Sabine as her daughter cut across customers to get to the counter.

"Get Papa. I need your help."


	15. Chapter 15

_With the second season coming out and new info appearing every day, the plot of my story and canon may not connect perfectly. Try not to pick holes in that, I'm trying the best I can to make the two stories fit, but I planned this story in the lull between seasons and I am sticking with my plot. Li Chouko, the Chinese name I looked up, means "Butterfly child", and all the research I did was on the fly and may be faulty. Read and Review!_

The sun was warm, and the shade of the tree cool and pleasant. The park bench would have been the perfect place for a tired alley cat to sun himself, but Chat couldn't enjoy it much. Pain, pain pain, that was all his blurred mind could register. Would this pain ever end?

Suddenly, a shadow blocked the dappled sunlight and Chat opened his eyes to look up at a woman with cold blue eyes, spectacles, wearing a business suit, reaching out for him.

"No!" he yelped half in fear, half in pain as he jerked away. "No! I won't go back! You work for him! You work for Hawkmoth!"

Things had gone so horribly wrong. Nathalie's eyes stared at the news report until they started to burn. She rubbed at them, numbly realizing that the burning was tears. Why, why was she, the personal assistant of a famous fashion designer, crying about a news report to which she should have had no connection?

Flight 13

Crashed.

No survivors.

Sonam was on that plane.

Sonam was on that plane, coming in from China to pick up her son. Several months had passed, and with Nathalie using the dark web to hide her tracks, Sonam had been able to reinvent herself, or rather, rediscover herself, in China. Hair shorn, dyed black, freckles from the sun, the baggiest attire in Shanghai, it was hard to see the supermodel Song Agreste in the photos of Li Chouko , an ordinary inhabitant of Shanghai, with a tiny apartment covered in cheap bamboo screens, a job as a store clerk in a flower shop, who ate cheap veggies and noodles from the corner food stand. Using shielded communications, she and Nathalie had made the arrangements, and Sonam was on her way to France, to a small airport on the outskirts of Paris, to where Nathalie would take Adrien. Sonam and Adrien would reunite, and leave for China to live their lives as mother and son. Nathalie had made every arrangement, hacked the airport records, bought the tickets under the counter, rescheduled the flights so that they would get out of the country as quickly as possible. Today had been the day. She had been on her way to get Adrien, had a little luggage pre-packed for him, a car borrowed from a former client on whom she had dirt. Then she double checked on the flight.

Dead. Sonam was dead. And no one knew but her. Everyone thought she had mysteriously disappeared, had eloped with her secret lover, or become a spy or whatever rot the tabloids churned out these days. Only Nathalie knew that Li Chouko, seat No. 6 , was Song Agreste. Only Nathalie knew. The world would never know, Gabriel Agreste would never know, Adrien would never know.

Because Nathalie could keep a secret.

"Papa! Please, we have to hurry! Chat…!"

"Marinette, I know how you love to help your friends, and I'd be happy to help you , but I have to bake these baguettes…."

"Papa, my friend Chat, he's in real danger, and I can't do this alone! This is his life I'm talking about Papa! Please, you have to come now!"

Tom Dupain-Cheng's green eyes turned from the dough he was kneading to his desperate daughter. "His LIFE, dear?"

"YES, we need to go NOW!"

"What is all this fuss, Marinette?" interrupted Sabine when she finally got away from the counter. "We need to go where?"

"Maman, Chat needs help, and no one else will help him! He's all alone and I can't do it myself but everyone abandoned him and I have nowhere to turn to! Are you going to abandon him too?"

"Marinette," Sabine put a calming hand on her frantic daughter's shoulder. "If anyone needs our help, us Dupain-Chengs will do whatever we can. Now, what kind of help does your friend need?"

"He's hurt."

"Tom, go get the first aid kit and a warm blanket." Marinette's father followed the orders while Sabine deftly informed the customers that something urgent had come up, simultaneously bustling around the house grabbing some simple food, water, an old hoodie and a half-full bottle of cheap wine "To kill the pain." She explained. "Now where do we need to go?"

"Fortune Park."

Sabine grabbed her subway pass, gave the bundle of supplies her husband had dragged down an expert glance, before tossing out unneeded objects and whisking them all out the door. "Now let's go."

Things had gone so horribly wrong. Nathalie stared at Gabriel Agreste until her eyes started to burn. She rubbed at them and numbly realized that they were burning with anger.

"If anyone would figure me out, I knew it would be you, Nathalie."

"I don't comprehend what you mean. If you are worried about me blabbing about your new fascination with insects and costumes, you don't know half of who I've worked for. Nothing you can do will shock me."

"This is no ordinary costume, this is a MIRACULOUS!" Agreste grandly intoned, his voice echoing in the chamber her prodding at the portrait had exposed.

 _Sonam's miraculous, you thieving git._ Thought Nathalie bitterly.

"What is a miraculous?" coldly asked Nathalie, her mind flying back to a totally different conversation about the same miraculous.

"This is the key to ultimate power! With this miraculous, I will lure out the two most powerful miraculous, and use them to grant my greatest wish. I WILL find her, she will come back to me! I made her who she was, and I will find her!"

"Ultimate power." Nathalie mulled over the concept in her mind. Power to ruler nation, wreck worlds, tame time.

Power to bring Sonam back from the dead.

Oh, God she needed that.

But Gabriel, the "hawk's moth" Sonam had hysterically mentioned, was the one with the miraculous power at the moment, the opportunity to gain the Ultimate Power and do with it what he wished. Agreste had the Butterfly. Nathalie had nothing but her eyes, intelligence and wits.

She could work with that.

"How do you know about this ultimate power?" The purple suited villain gestured to an old book,a book Nathalie had seen, a book Sonam had falteringly read in an ancient tongue her dying mother had taught her. Nathalie reached for it like a lifeline, but he slashed at her with his sword. "NO! It's MINE! She gave it to ME!"

 _Yes, she GAVE that book to you, after she bought it overseas behind your back to help her get back the miraculous you took from her._

Nathalie stiffened, trying to think of a plan in which she could stop Hawkmoth and get the power to bring Sonam back to life again, to give Adrien a chance to live a normal life for once. Gabriel clutched his precious "gift" like a madman.

Like a madman.

" _So, there are precautions to prevent people who are not chosen from using the miraculous." Nathalie studied the illegible writing, looking for something in the black market book that would help them get Norroo back. Sonam clutched at the place her brooch had occupied for only a few short days._

" _Not a PRECAUTION really." She replied. "I can't read the code too well, my mother died when I was young and didn't have time to teach me much. The drunk old lady I bought it from was too busy cursing out a man named FU to be of much help. But it's more of a SIDE-EFFECT of using a miraculous that isn't yours."_

" _What is it, and how will it help me get your brooch back so I can send it to you." Sonam sighed._

" _If taking the brooch hurts the plan, don't do it. Getting Adrien out is more important. But if it's any help…" she paused. "Using a stolen miraculous makes you go mad."_

Gabriel Agreste, no longer cold, rational, calculating. Gabriel Agreste, stark, raving mad.

"I'll keep your secret. I'll help you. As long as I get paid."

Agreste smiled behind the stolen mask. "I'll see what I can do about that."

 _Yes,_ thought Nathalie _I will be paid, when I take the miraculous out of your shivering, seizing hands that shake with insanity. I will watch you work and slave for your ends, and I will wait until your will weakens and withers away and leaves you a mindless madman. Then I will destroy the perfect prison you've put the only person I loved in for years._

Hawkmoth would never know what hit him.

Because Nathalie could keep a secret.

Chat quivered and shook on the park bench, flinching way from Nathalie's hands. "Ow!" he yelled when she brushed his back, and she drew back in surprise. "How are you injured, Adrien?" She sternly inquired, though concern seeped through her voice.

"You didn't know?" he asked incredulously.

Nathalie arched an eyebrow. "I knew you were Chat Noir from practically the beginning. I control every second of your schedule. It was impossible for me not to know. I covered it up."

"You didn't know about the nights when…"

"You were out on patrol? Of course, I knew you patrolled nights. I replace the footage of you sneaking out with old security film of you asleep. I've been doing that for the whole time. "

"You didn't know that he was beating me at night."

The cool impassive eyes suddenly lit up with horror. "What?" The voice cracked like a whip.

"My father, Hawkmoth, was beating me to get me to give up the miraculous, and you didn't know?"

"He wouldn't. I have Hawkmoth under control… He's been beating you…" If possible, the white face went whiter and more pinched. "Insane, that man is insane. I never thought he would destroy his most perfect creation. Unless he realized you weren't as perfect as he had made you to be. This shouldn't have happened! I was protecting you from him. He's not as far gone as I thought, or maybe he is…"

"He was lying to you? I thought you two were buddy buddy."

"He BEAT you."

"Yes."

"At night."

A harsh stare.

"He used my own damn trick. I kept replacing the footage, I never thought to look at the real …. I need to get you away from him. Where are you?"

"I'm not endangering my friend by telling you! "

The woman backed off. "You don't need to tell me. If it's safe, stay there. Don't come back."

"You're not going to take me back to Hawkmoth?"

"Things have gone so horribly wrong. I never meant for this to happen. All I wanted to do was get you and your mother out of here. Then… this miraculous mess happened."

Chat's unbandaged ear perked up. "What about my mother?"

The personal assistant waved the question away. "No time. Even if you don't believe me, Adrien, I never meant for any of this to happen. If you ever need help hiding, covering something up, forging or anything, here is my card."

Chat took it warily, eyeing the woman to gauge if anything she said was true.

"I'll leave you now, Adrien, and try to throw Hawkmoth off trail as much as possible. Please, for Sonam's sake, believe me."

And with that, Chat watched Nathalie straighten her glasses and walk on as if nothing had happened.

PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW!


	16. Chapter 16

_Hello, Ariolfo here, sorry this took so long. My boss REFUSES to give me a vacation! There is a detailed description of Chat's face in this chapter, so be aware. I would love it if someone made FAN ART of Chat's scarred face, so I could use it for a cover image for this story. PLEASE MAKE FAN ART! I CAN'T DRAW! My lack of drawing skills aside, enjoy this chapter and PLEASE REVIEW WITH SUGGESTIONS!_

Sabine could practically hear the tattoo of Marinette's heart over the noise of the subway station. Concern shaded her slanted features as she noted the haggard look to her daughter's tired features, the dark circles, the uneven breathing. But worst were the eyes, eyes so blue and carefree and childish, now laced with cracks of fear and pain and doubt.

Marinette, her small child, frantic with concern, defiant in her doubt that they would believe her, that they would reject her cry of help.

 _What has she seen that would make her fear us?_

The train pulled into the station, and Marinette launched herself off the bench and would have run out the door had not Sabine caught her hand. Blue eyes meet grey and found support. Marinette's face relaxed, then tensed again as she pulled her family onto the platform, up the steps and onto the sidewalks of Paris.

Sabine shared her daughter's short stature, and the two women weaved easily through the crowds, though Sabine had to catch her daughter when she bumped and tripped into various passersby. Tom, however, was struggling with a fumbling armful of first aid supplies and a frame that could barely squeeze through a door, let alone a crowd of pedestrians. Shaking her head at her husband's clumsiness, Sabine deftly pulled him through the crowd and to the street corner where Marinette was hopping from foot to foot in agitation. The light turned, and Marinette bolted, Sabine tugging her burly husband behind her. Shifting her armful of supplies to her other arm, Sabine followed the flying pair of pigtails to the gate of a small park. Not stopping to say good day to the man feeding the pigeons, Sabine pulled Tom past the main fountain, following their guide to a far corner of the park. It was a nice enough spot, a willow in full glory. Marinette was standing guard over the dark figure splayed inert across the park bench at its base.

"Is that…?" Tom trailed off, but Sabine didn't hesitate. Pushing through the curtain of leaves, she asked Marinette. "Was it an akuma?"

"No." Marinette's sweet face went bitter as she gently touched the black ring on Chat Noir's finger. "Plagg?"

The black suit vanished, like someone unceremoniously ripping the sheet off a body at the morgue. There was no scrappy young hero in taut black leather, but a bleeding boy, swaddled in tangled bandages. Tom gasped, aghast at the damage, but Sabine snatched the blanket and drew forward. Blood was brushed gently onto her skin by gauze and hair, blotting the blanket with blotches. She tenderly lifted the blond head and shoulders, wrapping the quilt tightly about him like he was an infant. Tom broke out of his stupor and with gentleness as characteristic of him as his size, picked up the skinny child.

"He's so light." Tom innocently commented, before his eyes snapped up and met Marinette's in disbelief, for something to discredit his conclusion. He found only affirmation.

"We throw out bread!" he raged in denial. "We toss it out when it's burned or stale or even when the recipe is bad! We have enough bread that we can eat what we want! Could no one give him a loaf of bread to eat ?! A loaf of bread, for God's sake!"

"Tom." Sabine looked at him, then tucked the blanket in more firmly. The one good eye flew open in fear, then dimmed with pain.

"Mom?"

Sabine's heart shattered into a million pieces for the third time in her life.

A fluke. That's what the doctors called it. She had been young and healthy, a happy new bride and a mother to be. They had bought a bigger bakery, the business was starting to pay off. They had a blue crib in their room for their boy.

She never saw him. Never held him. He came out in pieces, far too soon. The doctors called him "fetus". She screamed at them not to talk about her son like that.

Not her son.

 _He's not your son._ Nathalie thinks to herself. _Sonam wasn't your daughter. Or your sister. So why are you doing this? There is no reason, no profit in this. And doing right for right's sake is a laughable pursuit._

Her heels click down the hallways of the Agreste Mansion as she plans how to pull off one more Agreste disappearance. But the whole affair is ridiculously complicated, given the facts that the person she is trying to hide has a job as a public superhero, and that the person she is trying to hide him from is the supervillain, his father, and her boss.

 _Also, given that fact he's been beaten and starved these last few month and you somehow didn't notice._

She tries to shake away the guilt but fails.

How? How had she missed that? How had Agreste known how to play to her weaknesses so well?

 _The same way you know how to play to his. You're so alike._

They were alike. Cold, calculating, cynical and secretive. Both cared nothing for society or the populace on a whole. They took pride in their skills, both were masters at their crafts. Perhaps that was why they worked so well together.

And against each other.

Agreste had probably found out Adrien was Chat Noir and attempted to beat the miraculous off of him. Then gone to change the footage only to find it had already been changed. Nathalie had been keeping her distance from Adrien, to hide her interest in him.

 _And hide the fact it hurts every time you look in his eyes._

Yes, she and Agreste were very much alike, both running from and grabbing at this boy whose mother they had loved. Agreste, searching for an illusion of perfection, the flawlessly tailored woman he had sewn together from a pair of eyes and a face. And Nathalie?

Perhaps, it was purity she was looking for. Goodness, that shone like a star in the grime of her lies. Adrien would never trust her, or love her. Her alliance with Hawkmoth had erased any hope of that. The boy hated her. And Sonam was probably hating her too, from heaven. Hating her for failing to protect her son. For failing to save the city she loved. For failing to bring down the madman who had put her in a gilded cage.

For failing to see that no ill-gotten miraculous would ever bring her back.

Nathalie was used to being hated. But this time, it hurt.

Maybe because it was Sonam hating her.

Or maybe because she hated herself.

Tom entered the Bakery through the back door carrying Chat Noir. Marinette was carrying a little black thing that moaned the names of various expensive cheeses.

Sabine was carrying the pain of all her most painful memories in her arms.

She had been nervous the second time. Very nervous. But as the first trimester, then the second passed, the small room upstairs was tentatively painted blue. She read every baby book on the shelves, ate odd concoctions, tried to minimize her work. Her stomach swelled, the child whole inside.

Her second son.

He's born, red and wailing. Tom signs the birth certificate with the name she had joked about, and she's too tired and glad to be embarrassed about naming her son after her favorite movie star. He opens his bleary eyes for the first time and they're green. Like his father's. His hair is wet and dark, his skin still wrinkled. She will never let this moment go. Those green eyes.

Sudden. The perfect adjective. He goes suddenly, in his sleep. There is no real answer, for Sudden Infant Death. One moment, she had a son. He had a name. She was a mom. And now there's nothing.

It's strange, so sudden. How suddenly things change.

Nathalie walks down the street, still in her suit. The sun heats it against her skin, but she feels no warmth. Sonam would be as happy as a lark right now, glowing with sunshine. Not that the fiercest shower could dampen her spirits.

Spirit was all that was left of her now.

It was on a rainy day that Sonam had fearlessly declared Nathalie her Jie jie, the "goodest person I know!" The French had been shaky, but Nathalie was the one shaken by that declaration. Her? Good?

A good blackmailer? A good con artist? A good business woman?

Yes.

A good person?

No.

She had proceeded to correct Sonam's French and reiterate all the scams and cover-ups she had personally done. But Sonam had remain unconvinced.  
"You're good. You're my savior, Jie Jie. A hero!"

Nathalie had cracked a smile, and half-believed it.

Since then she had joined a supervillain, watched a man go mad, covered for the monster who destroyed Paris, put two children in danger, and somehow missed the fact Adrien, the one thing in life she had left of Sonam, was being abused.

She wasn't good. Sonam had been wrong. The goodness had been all hers.

 _Are you sure about that?_

Nathalie stood stock still in the middle of the sidewalk. People swerved around her, but she didn't move.

"I could have sworn…" She adjusted her glasses and walked quicker.

Wasn't she trying? Trying to undermine Hawkmoth? Try to protect Adrien? Trying to be the person Sonam would want her to be? It was true, she didn't have the purest of motives. Revenge, duty, and habit are not exactly the motivators of a hero. But she did have a soul. A heart. Somewhere, Nathalie Sancoer had a heart, maybe not for the throngs of Paris and the good of humanity. But for a dead woman she had called sister. A boy she had watched grow up. And maybe a twinge of care for an old client who was probably stone drunk at this moment, the idiot.

Nathalie had a heart. Perhaps not the heart of a hero.

But the heart of a vigilante could love too.

"Lay him down on the couch." Sabine ordered, searching for some scissors and fresh bandages. "Give him some of this." She handed Tom the half full bottle of wine. He put it to the boy's bleeding lips and poured until it bled out of his mouth and dribbled onto the blanket. "Don't drown him!"

"I tried to bandage him up the best I could…" Marinette wavered. Sabine crouched by the cat-boy and brandished the scissors.

"You did good, but I need to see how bad it is. He needs new bandages." With a steady hand, Sabine set her scissors to the bandage wrapped generously around Chat's head, and snipped.

Peeling away the bloodied gauze revealed a mess of red. Knowing her husband was resisting the urge to run, Sabine sent him for a bowl of water and a cloth. Marinette procured rubbing alcohol, and they began the long grueling task of cleaning Chat's face.

Bit by bit, Sabine wiped away the blood, starting around the eye. The laceration had cut across the eyelid, and she firmly pulled open the lid to see. The eye was a lovely, clear green that made her heart choke, barely slanted and thank God, intact. She followed the lash that had taken his eyebrow and curved up over his head, cutting through his blood matted hair. She gestured to Marinette for the scissor, and began to cut. Wads of blood stained blond hair fell, revealing another cut that looped over his skull and snaked down the middle of his forehead. The two lashes across his cheek bone didn't seem so bad, until Sabine traced them back and saw the two slices they had taken out of his ear. One more lash at his jaw bone, and two up his chin, one catching the corner of his mouth, the other licking up and cutting his lower lip. Nine. Nine in all.

"Cat O' Nine Tails." Marinette whispered.

 _So, we finally get a better description of Chat's face. Some sad Sabine, why she and Tome didn't have more kids. Marinette was her third child, as they say "Third time's the charm." More Nathalie. The "Old client who's probably stone drunk" will come in latter. Mr. Pigeon in the park! How many people got that? Sorry if this is too graphic._

 _I would love it if someone made some FAN ART of Chat's face so I could use it as a cover image for this story. Please review if you plan to do or have done something like that._

 _Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW!_


	17. Chapter 17

Cat O Nine Tails. Ch 17

 _Hello, finally back. I somehow got a drawing of Chat as the cover image for this story. That is pretty much exactly what I meant him to look like. Quantum Chickpea also posted a drawing on deivantart. Go and check that out if you like._

 _Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!_

Sabine was quiet. Very quiet. Marinette traced the foreign expression bleeding across her mother's familiar features, as the older woman deftly snipped off bloody blond hair and reverently laid a pad of gauze against Chat's cut face. The look was sad and ancient, a look that had been worn by women across the ages.

The look of a mother whose child is no more.

Her father, broad and bulky, slipped into the room with more bandages. Sabine silently took them, and he placed his hand on her shaking shoulder, as if to in some way bandage her heart.

The moment is intimate and sad and silent. Then it is interrupted.

"Mmph…? Mom?..." Chat's unbandaged eye opens and flicks around. "Marinette? Where's Marinette?"

Marinette approached the couch and leaned over him. "I'm here, Chat. We're safe. I got my parents to come and help me bring you home." His eye turns upon the couple on his other side.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain Cheng." Sabine's mouth parted as if to say something, but the cat plowed on.

"I really didn't mean to _claws_ you so many _purr-oblems._ I am very sorry. I'll be out of your way as soon as I can…"

"Stay."

"What?" The scrawny boy looked askance at the burly form of Tom Dupain-Cheng.

"Stay." The man's green eyes are earnest. "You were starving. You were unloved. Stay here."

He gestures to the little apartment, bright and cheery, with pictures of a happy family on the walls.

"We have more than enough bread and love to go around."

Chat smiled weakly. "I would love too, but…" His voice broke off as he looked longingly at the room and faces around him.

"Chat, come on, stay! We're not afraid of any danger. This bakery can survive anything. You can come to school with me, we can set up a bed for you in my room until we can get you your own and you can have all the pastries you could ever eat and never be cold or hungry or hurt again." Marinette's eyes were blue and pleading. They met Chat's one green eye, quivering with fear and guilt and hopeful longing.

"If he finds me…."

Marinette cut him off sharply. "Nobody has to know. We won't tell anybody. And if Mr. Monster shows his face around here, I'll… poke his eyes out with my knitting needles!"

Chat laughed shakily at the suggestion, his heart warmed by the fire behind it.  
"You're safe here, Chat Noir. There is nothing to fear anymore." Tom's voice was warm and kind. "It looks like I must get back to baking more pastries. We've got a new mouth in the family to feed."

The unmarred half of Chat's face was spread with shock. "Mrs. Dupain-Cheng. You must have something to say about this!"

Sabine's mind was far away, with her two lost boys. She had been so happy when Marinette had been born, but she had always harbored a place of her heart for a son. She had lost her unnamed child, lost little Chan.

But here was Chat.

"Call me Maman." She said to the shocked boy, as she briskly cleared up the first aid materials. "Stay here and lie down. Your sister Marinette can keep an eye on you. I'm going to bring you up some hot tea and painkillers for you, Chat."

She smiled at the sight of the two children.

"Chat Dupain- Cheng."

oOo

Nathalie was undecided in what to do. It had been a long time since the world had made sense. A long time since she had been whole.

She went about her normal duties as emotionlessly as she could, typing up files, covering for Agreste, who was barricaded in his room, instructing Felix as to the confidentiality of his services as body double.

"How long is it possible for you to remain employed?" Nathalie questioned the Adrien look-alike over Skype.

"As long as I'm paid."

"Indefinitely? Meaning years?"

The grumpy youth nodded. "Years. I've got no life to go back to. I'm willing to keep up this stupid little charade. Working for Agreste was always my goal anyway. I don't care if I have to pretend to be his son. It's all the same to me."

"Then it's settled." Nathalie clicked off and rested her head in her hands. She raised her eyes to the portrait hanging above the staircase, of the entire Agreste family. The desperate blue eyes focused on Sonam.

"Hey," she half whispered. "It's Jie jie. I'm bad at apologies. I failed. And I don't know what to do. I'm lost, Powerless. I have no tricks, no friends, no miraculous. What am I going to do?"

The picture was silent. But the inkling of an idea was forming in Nathalie's brain.

"That's crazy." She turned back to her tablet.

But she was faintly smiling.

oOo

The two children had been put to bed, and Tom flicked off the light and lay beside his wife.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" she whispered. "So many years ago… I lost two sons. And now I have one again."

"It feels wonderful to have another child in the house. Not that I blame you at all, my dear, but I always wanted more."

They were lost in quiet happiness, before Tom broke it.

"If I ever get my hands on the inhuman bastard who lay those stripe over that kid's back, I swear, I'd beat his head in with my rolling pin and throw him in the Seine. We're never going to let him get his hands on the boy again. Tomorow, I'm going to the police, and then to the courthouse, to get some papers pulled up. We'll keep him. I'll get a little room made where Marinette's balcony is, it'll be small but it will work and…"

"But Tom," Sabine's hand caught his arm in the dark. "Don't you see? He stayed up there for weeks with Mari and never told her who it was who did it. She said he was afraid he'd endanger us. Whoever this person was, they're powerful enough to catch and whip a person protected by magic. Powerful enough to put fear into the heart of someone who fights supervillains every day. And powerful enough to gain a sort of twisted loyalty from their victim."

"I'm not afraid." Said Tom boldly. "Let'm come."

"The point is, Tom, if Chat can't reveal who did this, we have no way to apply for legal custody in court. And even if we could, how could we say we're adopting Chat Noir? That's not his legal name. He refuses to give his real one. And if we did apply for legal custody, how could we stop his abuser from taking him by force once he found out where he was? The moment the word gets out that he's here, he'll be snatched away, by the courts or by that monster, whichever one finds out first. We have to hide him."

"But if we keep him here without any papers, no birth certificate, no school records, no legal name, it's only a matter of time before the law interferes and puts him in the foster system or takes him back to his legal guardian!"

"There's no way we can legally adopt him without papers, and no way to get those papers without somehow alerting his abuser that he's here."

Tom was silent, as the dread of discovery hung above them like a shadow. "We'll hide him then. Keep him in the house. But what about his superhero issue?"

"We'll keep him inside until he's healed, then only let him out to fight the akumas. I think Ladybug could manage alone for a few weeks. And Hawkmoth's been quiet lately, since the Hellhound one. We'll make it through. Somehow. Dupain- Chengs always do."

OOo

The room was dark and filled with the stench of liquor. Agreste was sprawled full length on his divan, a bottle of spirits in one hand, a pistol in the other. Nathalie quietly weaved her way around the scattered papers, hurled mannequins, and smashed photos of Adrien yanked from the wall. A few had been propped up against the mahogany desk and used for target practice. Nathalie blankly noted Agreste was a pretty good shot.

Silently making her way across the room, Nathalie paused to look up at the golden portrait of Song Agreste, glowing in the Parisian moonlight.

"So, here it goes."

Nathalie quickly typed the pin into the keypad that opened the safe. It swung smoothly open. Her plan had been to snatch the butterfly miraculous and bury it with its rightful owner. But the brooch was nowhere to be found. Nathalie whirled to the haphazard room. It could be anywhere, and she had only been able to disable the security cameras for five minutes max. Her time was ticking away.

 _I'm sorry, Sonam_. She thought bitterly _. I've failed you again_.

Then, a small peacock shaped brooch caught her eye. It was simple and did not look valuable. There could be only one reason it could be in this safe.

She took it and left.

 _So, here is another chapter. I'm afraid it's not too good. PLEASE REVIEW!_


	18. Chapter 18

The Cat O' Nine Tails, Ch 18

 _Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW! - Ariolfo_

Chat yawned sleepily, stretching out full length on the little pink couch that was his bed, his feet sticking out over the side. He blinked his eyes once or twice blearily. Marinette was groaning at the beeping of the alarm clock and sitting up in bed, in a manner reminiscent to that of a zombie rising from the grave.

"I don't wanna go to school." She said to him. Chat only smiled widely at her half-opened eyes and pigtails crooked from sleep. Marinette stuck her tongue out at him, then zombie-stumbled into the bathroom to freshen up for school.

Chat sat up on his makeshift bed and stretched again. He poked Plagg, who was curled up on Marinette's desk, but the kwami curled up tighter and refused to budge. As Marinette came out of the bathroom looking considerably more presentable, Chat pulled on one of the huge t-shirts Tom had given him that hung over his thin frame like a tunic, covering him to his knees.

"You know, you don't have to get up early like everyone else, Chat. You don't go to school. You can just cat-nap all day."

Chat shrugged and smiled. "I like spending time with you guys in the morning." He headed for the trap door without doing any morning maintenance.

Marinette laughed. "You have serious bed-head. It looks awful."

"Oh no!" Chat's unbandaged eye widened in mock horror. He ruffled his hair fiercely, so that it stuck even more on end. "Better now?"

Her sleepiness banished, Marinette bent over laughing. "Much better"

"Marinette! Chat! Time for breakfast!"

"Coming Maman!" They called, and thundered down the stairs.

Marinette gulped down her cereal, careful not to get milk on her school clothes, while Chat perched on a stool and ate his cheese omelet, Tom watching to make sure he ate every bite, Sabine ready to fill his plate the moment it was empty.

"We should have my uncle, Wang Cheng, come here to fatten you up. He's an amazing chef. I grew up with his dishes." Sabine's gaze turned thoughtful, her eyes focused on Chat's.

"I think he would have liked you. He used to tell us stories, about the beggars who came to the soup kitchens he ran. He ran a lot of them, and he always made them the best dishes he could make for them. He talked a lot about this one homeless woman, with beautiful green eyes. Your eyes are a lovely green."

Sabine's face darkened in sadness, before putting on a bright smile. "Have another omelet."

"There haven't been any akuma for a while now." Said Tom. "I'm glad. You need to heal."

"I really am feeling better." Chat dug into his second omelet. "When can I go to school with Mari?"

The breakfast table grew quiet as Sabine and Tom exchanged worried glances. Marinette's brows furrowed. "Chat's part of the family now, isn't he? He should go to school."

"Marinette, you haven't told anybody that Chat's here, have you?"

"No, not yet, but I will. I'll introduce him to my friends when he's well enough to go to school."

Tom's face grew serious. "Marinette, you can't tell anyone that Chat's here. No one, not even Alya."

"And you can't invite Alya over, or any of your friends. Oh Tom!" Sabine's eyes widened in panic. "Isn't there a girl in the class whose father is a policeman? Marinette, you can't tell anyone that Chat's here!"

"Why not?" Chat asked through a mouth full of omelet.

Tom and Sabine looked at him as if they were afraid someone would swoop down and snatch him away.

Marinette opened her mouth to speak, before glancing at the clock and dashing for her backpack. Giving

Sabine, Tom, and Chat tight hugs, the pigtailed girl bolted out the door.

Chat looked at Sabine and Tom with wide pleading eyes.

"What's going on?"

The couple looked at each other helplessly.

oOo

Nathalie was helpless.

Decisions and plans were flying at her, fast and thick and muddled. In this small dingy room, gotten by her usual means, she wondered if what she had done was wise.

At least, when she was with Hawkmoth, she had an insider's view, some semblance of control. Handpicking the akumas, making sure Hawkmoth didn't choose dangerous criminals or psychopaths to endow with super powers, had helped keep Chat Noir and Paris in one piece. She had watched over Adrien, not telling him about his father because she had believed the best place for Chat Noir to hide was under Hawkmoth's nose. She had hoped that one day Gabriel's insanity would leave him helpless and she could do with Hawkmoth what she willed.

Everything was so messed up now.

Gabriel's madness was progressing, possessing him. He had discovered his son was Chat Noir and tried to beat him into submission. Adrien, she didn't know where he was. She only hoped he was safe. Part of her wanted to reach out and find him, but he was probably safer if she didn't know where he was.

She had left Agreste with the typical note of resignation, thanking him for his choice of her services, expressing her desire to return to her private practice, promising him the customer confidentiality granted to all clients. But Nathalie could not predict how he would react. Perhaps he would be too drunk to even notice. Or perhaps he would send an akuma, or a hitman after her, paranoid she'd spill his secret. Not that Nathalie would. The only thing keeping Hawkmoth remotely in check was Gabriel Agreste, the fact that he was a public image, that his talent was in demand, that he had work to do. Despite his madness, Agreste was dedicated to his art, to his image. Perhaps it was that that kept his supervillian persona in check. If Nathalie were to expose Gabriel, there would be nothing left to keep him from fully giving into his malicious plot for power, no reason to keep himself under control.  
If Gabriel Agreste were revealed as Hawkmoth, all hell would break loose.

All hell was going to break loose anyway. Nathalie was just trying to cover it up for as long as possible.

There was one little matter left, the peacock brooch in her hand. Stolen in that frozen moment of desperation. Nathalie held it in the same manner as one would hold a strange drug. The right amount, could cure an illness, too much, fry your vital tissues out. She tilted it in the light, the feathers melting from teal to turquoise to blue.

All hell was going to break loose. Nathalie knew that. Monstrous akumas, disasters that couldn't be fixed by a little cheer of "Miraculous Ladybug!". Paris was going to go from the bright, candy-colored fantasyland it was on the surface, to a messy cross between a slum and a warzone. Personally, Nathalie could care less about the city or its citizens. She had seen far too much of Paris's filthy side to love it. The general populace as a whole was an object of scorn. But there were a few people in Paris who Nathalie couldn't just stand by and watch burn. And for their sake, she had to do something.

The peacock brooch would give her enormous power, she knew, from experience and from the stolen spellbook. But, it would also drive her mad. But was the sanity of an untrustworthy, jaded, cold con woman worth the deaths of the few precious souls she held close?

No. They deserved to live, to thrive, because they are good, true, unique, authentic and sincere. They were more than worth her life.

The brooch would drive her mad, make her a danger to others. Nathalie valued her rational thinking and cold calculating mind. She had to put safe guards in place beforehand, find someone she trusted, to keep her under control, who she could look at and be reminded of what she was doing this for.

A life as a blackmailer and obstructer of justice doesn't leave you with a very long list of trusted people.

But there was one person… yes. One person whose rise to fame and involvement with her business had not changed who they were. Her hand went to the red streak in her hair, a token from a time years past, a time much remembered, more than she was willing to admit.

Yes, he could be trusted.

She stroked the brooch, before tugging it into her bag and walking down the darker streets of Paris, to her tiny little office, abandoned in the years she worked for Agreste. Frowning in distaste at the graffiti that had sprung up about it, Nathalie unlocked the door and stepped into the shadowed and cold place of dirty business. She walked to her desk, placed the peacock brooch on it, then took her brass name plate and blew the dust off it. She placed it on the desk, propping up the miraculous against it.

"Look out Hawkmoth." Paon smiled. "I'm the boss now."

Nathalie then turned to the dusty keyboard, clicking it on.

Time to get in touch with an old friend.

oOo

The happiness and calm of the last two weeks when the Dupain Chengs had brought Chat in as their own, was broken by fear.

"What do you mean, we can't legally adopt Chat! He needs us! We need him!"

"The law won't permit it, sweetheart."

Marinette boiled with panic and rage. "Just go to the courts and tell them Chat was being abused and came to us for help! They have to see that, stupid legal papers or no!"

Sabine sighed. "That's not the way the courts work. They need birth certificates, legal names, knowledge of his legal guardian, probably even a trial and a court order signed by a judge. They can't simply go on the fact that we love Chat and that we want to be his family. They want to keep order…"

"ORDER!" this word seemed to particularly outrage Marinette. "Order, order, order! In the name of keeping order, we let people suffer and die! In the name of order we break families apart! Is order all anybody understands? Haven't they ever heard of LOVE?!"

Chat seemed to shrink into his oversized t-shirt.

Sabine pleaded. "Chat, please understand. We are keeping you. You ARE part of our family now. But if the law finds out you're here, they'll take you away."

"If my father finds out I'm here…" No one wanted to ponder the possibility.

"He won't." said Tom. "No one will. We'll find a way to hide you."

"Chat." Sabine's eyes were wet. "I can't lose you too."

The Dupain-Chengs, all four of them, were silent.

"What about this?"

Chat held out a crumpled business card.

 _Nathalie Sancoeur_

 _Forgeries, False Documents and Identifications._

 _Access to restricted Web space. Incriminating information available for purchase. Falsified reports also provided._

oOo

Her first plan of action had been to blackmail his agent. However, the woman's record was solid, and she did not seem inclined to accept bribery either. Part of her was glad he was associating with decent people, glad that this woman was not cheating or using him. Another part was wondering if he would be willing to associate with likes of Nathalie again.

Their first meeting, he was a young unknown, willing to take anyone he could get. Now, he was able to get the best, and they would consider it an honor.

 _She_ had come to consider it an honor, the more she got to know him, but she had never told him that.

The question remained. He wasn't like others she had propelled into stardom, by her wits and trickery, with no real merit of their own. He had had what it took. He still had it, and always had, because it was part of him, and he was completely unashamed to be who he was.

He didn't want his flaws covered up. He had embraced them. He was already a diamond in the rough.

All she had done was set the rock in a ring.

She had resorted to logging onto the dark web and hacking into his email. Nathalie really wanted to see him face to face, even if he turned her away. But that agent of his was a capable woman, and Nathalie had none of the status she had had working for Agreste.

From the time she knew him and his famously bold personality, his passwords were ridiculously easy for her to guess.

Practically everything was: Presley RIP, or Chuck Berry, or some other washed up old timer he idolized.

He hadn't changed, and never would. She had, grown darker, taken dirtier jobs, drifted further and further down until she was playing stooge to a supervillian.

He may have been one of her clients, but he was no criminal. She was.

But Sonam was dead, Adrien hated her and had his own problems. This was her only chance.

Did he even remember her?

A password popped up and didn't open with the usual catchphrases. In frustration, she tried his akumatized name and several curse words, before resorting to her passcode breaker program. The letters and numbers ran across the screen, freezing when the right combination was achieved.

redhairedNATH

Nathalie's hand went to the red streak still left in her hair, and smiled.

A few passwords later, she had logged onto his personal computer.

"Hey, Jacques. I need a place to stay and a favor. Do you have a job opening?"

The reply was almost immediate and typed with typical poor grammar.

"R u kiding me,u can come over. Its ben a long while, nath.

& dont call me Jacques. it's JAGGED!"

oOo

 _Sorry for the long wait and messy plot. Enjoy and please review! The "boss" line Nathalie said is a reference to the info given by the creators of the show that in canon, Paon would be Hawkmoth's "boss". Here, it is like the realization that now Nathalie is no longer powerless, that she can be a boss too. Lots of little hints here. The plot is thickening. I do hope it is living up to your expectations._

 _REVIEW WITH ADVICE AND OPINIONS!_


	19. Chapter 19

Cat O' Nine Tails Ch 19

 _Hi, finally back. Hope you like this chapter I just rattled off. I got review asking why in the last chapter Adrien referred to himself as a diamond in the rough. I'm sorry for confusing you, but that part wasn't referring at Adrien at all. The "diamond in the rough" Nathalie is thinking of is Jagged Stone, her old friend._

 _ENOY THE CHAPTER AND PLEASE REVIEW!_

Gabriel Agreste clenched his fists to his head and tried to remember who he was.

His nails dug into his scalp as he stood in the shattered remains of his locked room, breathing hard before the golden portrait of his wife.

His wife, his wife Song. Or was it Sonam? No, SONG. Get a hold of yourself Agreste. His nails clenched tighter.

Song. His wife Song. His wife Song was missing. Or was she dead? Missing or dead? Missing or dead.  
Agreste looked up into the golden face, the green eyes. His wife Song was dead. Had he killed her? Had these damned butterflies crawled over her cold flesh as they crawled over him now? He clawed at the silk suit he was wearing, feeling the filaments flex and tighten around him, drowning out the world. Cocoon. They were cocooning him. He could feel the brush of countless delicate wings. Loud. Their wings were so loud.

"Shut up!" he snarled to the empty room. "Be quiet I say!"

Still the moths crawled over him, their feelers brushing against him maddeningly. He couldn't take this anymore! They'd cocoon him, mummify him alive.

Desperately, Agreste threw himself to the ground, rolling over and over on the debris scattered floor to crush the insects. He thrashed madly, to silence those little wings, those deafening wings. He rolled until the following silence roared in his ears, left him curled still on the floor.

Shakily, he ran his hand over his rumpled suit. No moths. No trace of them ever being there. Had they ever been there? Or what if they were still there?

Shaking his head and straightening his lapels, he got to his knees.

"Control, Agreste. Control."

His breath was coming in pants, slowing as he collected his dwindling wits about him. Suddenly, he snapped his hand to his neck, clutching at the butterfly he could feel fluttering on it. His grip tightened on it, seeking to crush the cursed creature, until he realized he was choking himself and that the fluttering he had taken for wings was only his frantic pulse.

He looked again at the gold portrait. He was Gabriel Agreste. He owned Song Agreste, and she had been stolen from him. Or had he stolen from her? What had he stolen? His hands ran over the brooch at his throat. This. Had he stolen this? He swallowed and shook his head. No. She had been stolen from him, and Hawkmoth was trying to steal her back. Was he Hawkmoth? Or was she Hawkmoth? Or was the little floating doll Hawkmoth? Who was Hawkmoth?

"I am Hawkmoth." His voice echoed in the room. He got to his feet and walked to his now broken desk.

He was Hawkmoth. He was trying to get Gabriel Agreste's property back. Or was she his property? Was she his wife? Or Gabriel's? Was he Gabriel? Was he? He wasn't sure…

Yes, he was Gabriel. And Song was his wife. Or was it Sonam? Song. And she had a son. Which meant he had a son, didn't it? Adrien.

His hand idly traced the bullet hole he had shot into a picture of Adrien. Or was it Chat Noir? Chat Noir was his enemy. He knew that. Chat Noir and Ladybug were his enemies. Why were they his enemies again? The miraculous, of course. He wanted their powerful miraculous so he could… so he could…

What did he want to do?

He wanted to kill Chat Noir. He knew that much. Chat Noir had killed his son Adrien. Or was Chat Noir Adrien? No, his son was Adrien and Chat Noir was Sonam's son. But if Sonam was his wife, was Chat Noir his son? Or was Song his wife and Sonam Hawkmoth's wife? Was he Hawkmoth?

Yes, he was Hawkmoth, and Song was his wife, and Adrien was his son, and his son was perfect. But Chat Noir was Sonam's son, which meant he was his son, and Chat Noir was not perfect. Chat Noir was his enemy. Was his son his enemy? Who was his son again?

ADRIEN. His son was Adrien and he was perfect. But Adrien was Chat Noir and Chat Noir was his enemy. Was Adrien perfect? Yes, he had to be, because he was his son. Gabriel's son. Was he Gabriel?

Adrien was his son, and Chat Noir was a mask Adrien wore. Or was Chat Noir his son and Adrien the mask? Who was his son? Who was he?

He wanted Chat Noir dead. Chat Noir was his enemy. But Adrien was his son. His son was flawless. But Chat Noir was his son and he was his enemy. Chat Noir was in his son, and he had tried to whip Chat Noir out, so Adrien would be flawless and perfect again.

Gabriel Agreste pulled at his hair in agony.

Chat Noir was his enemy. Gabriel owned Song. Sonam was Adrien's mother. Adrien was perfect. Song was gone. Gabriel wanted to find her. Hawkmoth was helping. Who was Adrien again? Who was Sonam?

Who was he?

Agreste reached for the comforting bottle of liquor. Liquor brought comfort. That he knew. What else did he know?

He wanted the miraculous. He hated Chat Noir. He was Hawkmoth.

He was Hawkmoth. Agreste smiled and took a swig. The liquor burned. The endless beating of wings inside his head dulled.

He was Hawkmoth. That he knew.

oOo

Sabine Dupain-Cheng stood tensely near her closet, trying to decide what to wear.

What does one where when going to see a forger of legal documents?

Sabine didn't know.

Tom seemed equally nervous, folding and unfolding that business card over and over again in his big hand.

"I don't know about this." He said. "I really don't know."

"I mean," he continued. "You and I, we've never broken any law. Never even bent one. I mean, we never cheat with our change or skimp with our recipes. We've never even gotten a parking ticket! And here we are, getting ready to go see this CON WOMAN…" Tom threw up his hands. "I just don't know if we should do this. I mean…"

His green eyes were wide. "We're good. We don't deal with criminals."

Sabine lowered her eyes. Tom keep folding the little black card. The children's terse voices drifted down from Marinette's upstairs room.

"Sometimes..." Sabine took the card from Tom and held his hand. "I guess to be good, you need to be a little bad."

oOo

As she stepped into elevator of the Le Grand Paris Hotel, Nathalie wondered if this had been a good decision. Had this been the best choice to make?

But as Jagged opened the door with his signature wild smile, Nathalie couldn't bring herself to care.

"Nath!" He stepped forward and embraced her in a bone crushing hug, his gold winged skull pendant digging into her heart.

"Hey Jagg." She found herself smiling back, before she remembered her current situation. She pulled away.

"I'd like to talk to you about a low-key job. I'm so sorry to call in an old favor like this, but I'm in a bit of trouble and I'm hoping you could help me out. Secretary would do, or even …"

"Nath, you should know better than to talk business with me! Don't worry about working or jobs or all that rot yet. You're my guest! Least I could do for an old friend. And speaking of old times…" he ushered her into his apartment. "How've you been? You were still working for Agreste, last I heard. C'mon, c'mon, sit down!"

Nathalie gingerly sat down, taking the glass that Jagged offered her. "Yes, it's been a while." She took in his fuller beard, his currently purple hair, his sparkly jacket. "Too long."

He grinned widely, obviously delighted to see her. "As you can see, I'm doing well. Doing what I love, being who I am, living life the way I want. All thanks to you." He gulped down his drink. "Really. Thank you, Nath. I finally made it!" He gestured widely to their surroundings, the records, guitars and posters scattered around.

Nathalie smile quietly. "I knew you would."

"So, what's up? We haven't talked since you called me in the middle of the night like a crazy person, begging me to play."

Nathalie's blue eyes shot open, her hand clenching around her untouched drink, as she remembered.

oOo

It had been late at night, and she hadn't been able to sleep. Sonam was dead. Gabriel was Hawkmoth. Adrien was motherless. And it was all spiraling out of control.

Tears crawled quietly past her cheeks, settling on her pillow. The clock glowed out two A.M. Nathalie lay still, playing sullenly with her single lock of dyed red hair.

There would be no rest for her soul tonight.

She had no idea what possessed her, but she bolted out of bed, and grabbed her phone. She called him, the number emerging from the recesses of her mind. It rang, rang again. She asked herself what she was doing, then told herself she didn't care. She wanted comfort, and she wouldn't deny it to her aching heart. Not tonight.

"Who the hell is calling me at this god forsaken…?!"

"Hey Jagged." Her voice was as rough and broken as his name.

"Nath? Nath, what the hell? What's wrong?"

At his voice, the tears came down.  
"Jagged…" her voice came out in a whisper. "Look, I know this is crazy, but can you play me something? Anything. I just need to hear you play."

"Play a song? Nath, just tell me what's wrong. I'm your friend, I can help you out, just…"

"Please just play something, okay?"

Silence on the other end, then scuffling. "Alright. Nath…?"

"Just play."

He played piano, something she knew he rarely did. Played soft and deep, soulful and soothing. Nathalie cried. His music had always had that effect on her. It had the first time he had walked into her office, not wanting not a con artist or a hacker, but a publicity agent. It was the first real job she had ever had. And he was her first real friend.

The song dwindled off, and his voice came through the speakers. "Nath, you know, if you're ever in trouble, you can come to me. Not that you can't take care of yourself, but…"

"Thank you. Good night, Jagged."

"Nath, wait a…!"

She had hung up on him then.

oOo

"Hey, Nath, snap out of it. Here." He held the glass to her lips. "Drink."

She drank, then sputtered. "Is this _apple juice_?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Gotta set a good example for the kiddies."

"You never change, do you? Except for your hair."

"Yeah," He tossed his shaggy purple locks. "I tried green for a while, but I do like this current shade. I see you kept our original red."

Nathalie's hand went to her single dyed lock. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I'm surprised Agreste allowed you to keep even that one streak. No way he'd have let you have a full head streaked red, like the old days. He always seemed to me like an old stick in the mud. That poor kid of his."

"You have no idea."

"Anyway, I'm glad he was. You're back, Nath! It's be just like the old times! You can hang here for as long as you like. You should see Fang now! He's not the little croc he was when you left. And expect free tickets to all my concerts! They're a bit more flashy than those old dive bars I got started in."

"Thank you, Jagged." Nathalie sipped her apple juice. "But I can't just laze here all the time. You know me."

"I know the workaholic attitude that got me where I am. Don't worry, I'll find you something to do, something where you'll have a lot of underlings to boss around."

Nathalie snorted. "Underlings are not necessary, but greatly appreciated."

Jagged smiled again, not his I-am-a -rock-and-roller-and-to-hell-with-anyone-who-wants-me-to-be-otherwise smile, but a smile crazed with delight and sincere happiness.

"It's good to have you back, Nath."

oOo

Sabine and Tom walked quickly down the narrow, cracked sidewalk, constantly glancing over their shoulders and looking ridiculously out of place. Tom glanced at the wrinkled card in his hand.

"This must be it."

It was a dull black door with a rusting nameplate. Propping it open was a cardboard moving box. A spectacled woman emerged carrying another box.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was dull and businesslike, her blue eyes cold through her glasses.

Tom shrunk back but Sabine stepped forward. "We are looking for Ms. Sancoeur."

"I'm Nathalie Sancoeur."

"Please, we are in need of your…services."

Her eyes scanned them. "You don't seem the type."

"We're willing to pay."

"I'm closing down."

Sabine's eyes leaped with terror. "Oh, but you can't!"

"I am."

"Please, Ms. Sancoeur, I beg you. My son…!"

"Mothers and their sons." The woman sighed but put her box down. "Alright, come in. I'll see what I can do."

oOo

Chat and Marinette waited in semi-darkness in her room, anime playing on the computer before them, but neither of them paid it any heed.

"They've been gone an awfully long time now."

"You don't suppose…" Chat stuffed his mouth full of popcorn to quell his fears.

"It's going to be alright." Said Marinette stoutly. "It has to be."

Chat touched his bandage and then looked at Plagg.

"What do you think, Plagg?"

The kwami gave them a dark look. "You're not going back there, kid. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Me too." Said Marinette, the light from the movie playing across her face.

The three tense waiters jumped as the sound of the chiming bell reached them. Marinette and Chat exchanged a glance torn between fear and hope, before bolting down the stairs and jolting to a stop at the bottom.

"Well?" Marinette demanded. "Well?"

Tom reached into a folder and pulled out a paper.

"By order of the judge, Chan Dupain Cheng is hereby placed under the legal custody of Tom and Sabine Dupain Cheng until he reaches the legal age of twenty-one, after which…"

Tom got no further, as he was engulfed in furious hugs and embraces from every side.

"You're safe, Chat!" sobbed out Marinette. "You're a Dupain-Cheng!"

oOo

Nathalie dropped her few boxes of belongs onto the carpet of Jagged's penthouse suite, before dropping herself onto the couch, heedless of the crocodile occupying the other end.

He was safe.

Adrien was safe, taken in by those two good souls. Nathalie wished he had been able to get farther away from his father, but who else would have taken in a superhero so openheartedly? Nathalie only hoped that her work would bear up under scrutiny. In Adrien's last and final encounter with his father, his face had been brutally scarred. Nathalie only hoped that no one at his old school would recognize him, or if they did, would keep quiet. Would they buy the fake police report about a beating by a Shang Hai gang? How unstable was Agreste at this point? Unstable enough that he wouldn't recognize his own handiwork? It was a very long longshot. Very long indeed.

Unstable or not, Hawkmoth would be back in action soon. And when he recovered, Nathalie had to be ready to face him. Grasping the peacock miraculous, Nathalie felt another wave of selfish relief that she had come to Jagged. Jagged. He could help her handle this.

She gave Fang an idle pat. Jagged was right. He was much bigger now.

"What do you say, Fang? Time to meet this kwami?"

Nathalie pinned on the brooch.

 _Finally, another chapter after my Lenten break. I hope you like it! The first part is Gabriel's POV, just to show how off his rocker he is now. Jagged, Nathalie's old friend, finally comes in. Please tell me if he seems in character or not! Nathalie got him started in show business. Her old friend is NOT Master Fu. Chat is now under the guardianship of the Dupain-Chengs. They had to use the name Chan on the papers, because Chat would have been a little too obvious, but Chat will still be referred to as Chat, and Chan only used in official role call and when he first introduces himself._

 _PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! EVERY SINGLE REVIEW MATTERS!_


	20. Chapter 20

_Hey, Ariolfo here! Sorry it's been so long. Real life and writer's block. This chapter's kind of slow, sorry to disappoint, but I hope you like it! More action later._

 _PLEASE REVIEW!_

oOo

Nathalie raised the brooch high, inspecting it in the light, before pinning it to her blouse. The apartment flooded with blue light. It flooded over Jagged's guitars, glanced off Nathalie's glasses, and Fang growled and shied away. And from the midst of the blue light, emerged two blue eyes and a small voice.

The kwami spoke, its eyes welling up in tears. "I've waited too long."

oOo

Plagg was quiet. Quiet, as the happy Dupain-Cheng family chattered behind him at their dinner, celebrating Chat's initiation into the family. He floated by the windows and reached out with his senses. Plagg could not tell where the other kwamis were, merely if they were active or dormant. But he had sensed an awakening tonight. Tikki's aura hummed like a bright pink spark. Very pretty, very bright, very painful. Trix and Pollen were dormant, curled up in hibernation, stirring restlessly at the discord that swirled around them. Wayz was awake, out somewhere. Nooroo was active too, his aura tired and beaten and fearful. But Plagg sensed a presence. Norroo's matching pair. The peacock was rising.

"Damn you, Duusu." Plagg muttered. "You were supposed to have awakened ages ago. If you had, this never would have happened."

oOo

Nathalie beheld the creature, whose tears streamed endlessly down its face.

"Why are you crying?" Her voice sounded cold to her own ears. She had never been good at comforting people.

"Because I see your future and your past, and they are both filled with much pain." The little eyes gazed into her own, and Nathalie felt that they were reading her soul, seeing all her twisted nature, her lies, her thoughts and lost hopes and broken dreams.

"You, Nathalie Sancouer, chosen of the peacock miraculous, have seen too much. Yet you refuse to see what lies within your own heart."

The words struck a little too close to home.

"I came for power." Nathalie spoke as business-like as she could. "I need it, to avenge a friend, and to protect the ones… I care about."

The kwami did not blink. "You love few, but you love fiercely. It is for this love, I give you my power. But I must tell you, the peacock has many eyes, and sees much. Your power of sight will force you to face every lie you have ever told yourself. You cannot hide, you cannot cover up the truth any longer. Knowing this, do you still want my power?"

Nathalie shook her head and braced herself. "I do."

The kwami wiped away its tears and managed a small smile. "Hello, then. I am Duusu, kwami of the peacock miraculous."

oOo

Chat nervously thumbed through the clothes on the rack, looking anxiously over his shoulder all the while.

This was supposed to be an enjoyable experience. He was out with Sabine, his new mom, and Marinette, who was now his sister, shopping for clothes so he could go to school. It was their first outing as a family, and Chat should have been loving every minute of it.

As it was, he felt physically ill.

He had not been out of the safety of the Dupain-Cheng house in weeks. He had not exited that soft pink cocoon of warmth and acceptance and safety and love. And now he was back in the real world of Paris, without even the suit to shield him.

As Adrien, he was used to getting looks. He turned heads where ever he went, with his good looks, fame, and name. He'd tolerated it but found it annoying. It was nice to be admired, though. Adrien was starting to miss those looks.

As soon as they stepped out on the street, people stared at him. Their eyes shot immediately to the bandaged face, the shorn hair, and the arm draped around Marinette's shoulder for support. It was different than the looks of adoring fans. This look came, and pierced, then darted away, pretending he didn't exist. He'd cringed when girls had fawned over him in the past, but now he winced as he caught their cutting comments as he passed. "Who is he, the mummy or something? Maybe he got caught in a trash compactor." Children clutched their mothers or burst into tears at the sight of him. Cashiers stared not-so-covertly as they made their change. One actually asked what had happened.

"Ah, humm, well, he…" Marinette stuttered for a response. Chat was frozen.

Sabine answered in clipped tones. "He got caught up with a bad person." She picked up the bag. "Come on, kids, let's go."

"Wait! He's your kid? He doesn't look anything like you. Is he…?"

"It's not your concern." Sabine glared at the nosy cashier. "And you gave me incorrect change."

Chat just wanted to hid in the clothing rack.

"And you used to complain about being pretty." Plagg's voice snarked from within the pocket of the shorts he had borrowed from Tom.

"I never though I'd miss it." Chat's hand went to the bandages, imagining what lay underneath. "What's Ladybug going to think of me?" Chat sank to his knees, underneath the clothes. "If I couldn't get her to love me when I was Adrien Agreste, I have no chance now."

Plagg grunted. "Don't worry about it, kid. Your love-life's the least of your problems right now. You need to take care of yourself."

Chat curled up in the dark. Plagg purred quietly against his hand.

"Hey, Chat?" Marinette pulled the clothes back. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to never come out."

Marinette sat down beside him and brushed off her pink pants.  
"Chat, what's wrong?"

Chat sighed quietly, then burst forth. "All my life I've been looked at differently by people. My father, he had this disdainful look, like I was never good enough, and other people, they looked at me like I was some rare beast in a zoo. And now…" Chat cradled his bandaged face in his hands. "Mari…, they look at me like I'm a freak."

Marinette's eyes flashed blue. "I won't let them! I'll…!"

"You'll what?" Plagg drawled sarcastically, startling them both. "Make them be nice to him? Well, you can't. You can't make them change the way they look at a black cat. He's always going to be an outcast. The question is, are you willing to be an outcast with him?"

Marinette stood up. "Chat is my family now." She looked at the bitter cat kwami. "And you are too. So, you better get used to it."

"Come on, Chat. You need some dress pants and shirts." Marinette pulled Chat from his spot on the ground and back into the light.

oOo

Nathalie swung open the mirrored door of the closet in the lavish suite Jagged had gotten her. Bending over, she pulled open the cardboard box of her clothing. Suits, and dress pants. The lavish one she'd worn under Agreste stared her in the face with its glossy sheen. She shoved it onto hanger and pushed it deep into the back of the closet. Next was her own drab work suit, dusty, but neat and well mended. Nathalie quickly pulled it on, buttoning the buttons quickly, and shut the closet door. Her mirror image stared back at her, dark hair, dark suit, dark circles under her dull blue eyes.

She would have to see Jagged about getting her a smaller room. This one was far too fancy for her. She didn't deserve it. She wasn't going to live off his charity. Charity she didn't deserve.

A small sniffling came from behind her. Nathalie looked at the kwami over her spectacles.

"What are you crying for now?"

"You know…" Duusu whispered in a voice hoarse from crying. "You're a lot like Plagg."

Nathalie shoved the cardboard box into the dark closet and headed for the door.

"You coming, kwami?" Wiping away his tears, Duusu floated after her, nestling himself in her pinned-up hair.

Nathalie walked out the door and straight into Penny Rolling.

oOo

Clothes. Chat felt as if they were smothering him, wrapping him up, choking him. His seams were coming undone, as he forced himself to reach out and grab clothes from Agreste, clothes he had worn as Adrien, clothes his father had designed.

Chat willed himself not to break down in front of Marinette, who was looking with interest at the designs. Sabine and Marinette had insisted he choose the clothes he wanted to wear. As Adrien, he had never been given the chance to choose his clothes, His father had always picked what he wore, and he had been ridiculed the rare times he had worn something of his own choice.

"You look like a fool." Father had snapped when he spotted Adrien wearing a baseball cap Nino had given him. It had been snatched off his head sharply. "I'm almost embarrassed to call you my son."

Chat started breathing hard, burying his face into the seams as he came undone. He didn't want to embarrass Marinette and Sabine and Tom. He wanted to look respectable. He wanted to make them proud to be seen with him. He wanted to wash away the watching eyes of the people who passed.

So, Chat went to what he knew. Suit, white dress shirts. Trim pants. Whites, greys, pale blues, calling to mind agonizing hours of standing still before fashion shows, of being picking and pinched with pins, of standing posed stiffly under blazing, blinding spotlights, of last minute frantic adjustments.

It took all his strength to lift the clothes off their racks and put them in the cart.

oOo

Natalie straightened her glasses and watched purple haired woman get up from where she had fallen.

"Ms. Rolling, I presume?" Nathalie gave the woman a hand.

"Yes." The lady brushed her pretty purple pixie cut out of her eyes, before looking at Nathalie. "And you are…?"

"Nathalie Sancoeur. I was recently employed by Mr. Stone."

Penny Rolling raised an eyebrow. "Jagged didn't tell me about this."

Nathalie could feel Duusu fluttering her hair. "It was kind of short notice."

"I'll have to check it out with him. Come with me, Ms. Sancoeur." And with that, Penny led Nathalie down to Jagged's apartment, where he was busy strumming his guitar.

"Good morning Jagged. This woman quite literally bumped into me. She claims you've hired her. "

Jagged patted Fang and grinned at them. "Yeah, Penny. You've met Nath?"

Penny turned to Nathalie, who was trying to keep her face cold and neutral. "Nath?"

"Yeah, she's the one who got me into the big leagues. Nath, meet my new agent, Penny Rolling. Penny, Nath. I gave her a job."

"A job as what Jagged?" Penny laughed tersely. "I hope you're not firing me."

"No, no. I just wanted to help Nath out."

"I see." Nathalie forced herself to stand straight and still under Penny's scrutiny.

Penny turned to Jagged brightly. "I'm sure I'll find her something to do."

"Not with her dressed like that you won't."

"What?" Nathalie stared at Jagged, who looked at her while tuning his guitar. "What's wrong with this suit?"

"You look too tense, too serious. Relax Nath!" he played a cord. "It'll be just like old times. Wear that plaid shirt you used to wear. Loosen up, Nathalie. You're with me now."

Duusu shifted in Nathalie's hair, and a few of his tears crawled down her collar.

Nathalie swallowed the knot in her throat. "I'll change."

"Meet me downstairs in the lobby." Said Penny. "Jagged, you and I really need to discuss what we're planning for your next concert. Now, I was thinking…"

Nathalie gave Fang a quick pet, before walking out the door, leaving the two of them to their conversation.

"Just like old days, eh?"

She closed the door on the two of them and walked down the hallway, Duusu hovering by her side, weeping.

oOo

Sabine worried less over the hefty price tags of the clothes than the look on Chat's face when he gave them to her.  
"Chat, are you okay?" His answer was shaking, as he thumbed the brand name label over and over again.

Sabine didn't know what was wrong, but she knew it had something to do with clothes in the cart. Pulling Chat to her chest, she called Marinette. "Put these back on their racks."

Chat clung to her as she stroked his hair, careful of the bandage. "There, there. It's alright. You don't have to wear those, okay? We can just go home now."

"No." Chat's voice was muffled. "I need… I need to make sure you're not ashamed of me…"

"Chat." Sabine stared into the unbandaged green eye. "I don't know what you've been told before, but I will never be ashamed to call you my son."

"Now, let's find you something you like to wear to school."

"Hey Chat!" Marinette came running up with a graphic tee. "I think you'll like this."

It was a soft gray t-shirt, emblazoned on the front was a picture of a nacho and the words "What do you call cheese that isn't yours? NACHO-cheese!"

Chat snatched it. His voice was small and timid. "Can I wear this one, please?"

"Of course." Said Sabine. "Whatever makes you happy."

"There are a ton more of them back on the clearance rack." Said Marinette.

"I hope you know you've created a monster." Remarked Plagg.

oOo

It was soft and worn. Comfortable, as she slipped it on.

Nathalie didn't know why she had kept it. It wasn't like she would have ever been able to wear it under Agreste. Far too casual. And plaid was not fashionable.

The red and black plaid matched her dyed hair. She kept the dark pants and heels. She would have to get jeans and some sneakers or something. If she knew anything about Jagged, he would have her running all over the place. And she knew Jagged.

"Would you like to see one of my powers?"

Nathalie did not turn away from the mirror. "Is now really the time, Duusu?"

"It will only take a moment. And I think it will show you something."

"All right. But quickly. I have to get to work."

The little peacock kwami flew in front of Nathalie's face, looking her straight in the eyes. His little peacock tail fanned out slowly behind him, a little eye emblazoned on each feather.

And Nathalie _saw._

oOo

There she was. At the time she had thought herself very old and wise. But now Nathalie saw how young, and naïve, and happy she had been.

Her past self.

Her past self, dressed in this same plaid shirt, cat's-eye glasses, and a smile. She was standing in the small office Nathalie had just vacated. Her desk was piled with papers and photos. Record deals and publicity photos if Nathalie remembered correctly.

She almost choked when Jagged came in.

His hair was streaked orange and red and tied into a ponytail. His clothes were shabbier, but just as flamboyant. The beard was just a small tuft on his chin.

"Well…?" The younger version of Jagged strummed his guitar nervously.

"Well, what?" said Nathalie, trying to hide a smile.

"Well, did you get us a gig or not? Cause we're running out of cash and the fridge is empty and…"

"Bob Roth Records."

"What?"

"I got you a record deal with Bob Roth Records."

Jagged's triumphant shout shattered the image.

And Nathalie was left alone in front of the mirror.

She coughed a bit. "Come on Duusu. You can hide in the pocket."

"But about your vision…!"

Nathalie tucked the kwami sharply into the pocket.

"I don't want to talk about it."

oOo

 _So sorry this isn't very action filled. I just wanted to get another chapter up, since it's been so long. I'm suffering from writer's block, so any inspiring ideas or reviews you send would be very much welcomed._

 _PLEASE REVIEW!_


End file.
